The complete Adventures of Karl Kroenen Jrpart 1
by Gestalt
Summary: The tale of Karl Kroenen Jr, involving time travel and lots and lots of magick! Pleeeeese review, up to chapter 22!
1. The Next Dimension

THE NEXT DIMENSION

Felix was already waiting for her as she left the plane. Newly elected that she was, this was President Johnson's first visit to Area 51. Felix welcomed her with a smile, and glanced appraisingly at the two hulking bodyguards behind her.

"I don't think you'll be needing them, Mrs. President," he said.

"I would feel better if they came," Sheila Johnson replied.

"Alright Mrs. President."

Felix led the way through the white-painted corridors of the secret base. There was a slight whiff of disinfectant in the air, and sometimes Sheila caught the scent of something else, a strange smell that she didn't recognise.

"So, who is it that you are taking me to see?" she asked Felix, even thought she knew very well. Her hidden superiors had seen to that.

"His name is Karl Kroenen, and he's our top agent."

"Why do you keep him out here instead of at the main F.B.I. headquarters?" This was a question to which she really didn't know the answer, although she could guess.

"Well…" Felix paused, "you'll understand when you meet him."

"What is he like?"

"Kroenen is difficult to describe. He's about twenty, German and he wears this strange metal mask all the time. He never tells anyone why."

Not even the Grand Master of the Illuminati knew that, Sheila thought to herself.

"Twenty," she said aloud, "that seems very young."

"Don't be fooled. He is a master with his two baton swords. Kroenen began learning to kill when he was about fourteen. He was nineteen when we encountered him and persuaded him to work for us."

The President nodded.

Felix stopped.

"We are almost there. A few words of warning though before you meet him. Try not to talk about Jews or Nazis, he can get touchy. Oh, and try not to stare at his scars."

"Why? I have seen scars before."

"Not like his you haven't."

President Sheila stared at the huge metal door that was the entrance in trepidation. She wondered what Karl Kroenen was really like, that Felix was so afraid of him. The Illuminati really didn't know all that much about him. Suddenly she felt very grateful for the presence of the two bodyguards behind her.

Felix pulled out his Area 51 pass-card and swiped it through the slot. The door began to swing open. Sheila stepped through hesitantly, her bodyguards following and Felix bringing up the rear.

The room was dimly lit compared to the spotless corridors outside, with most of the light coming from a huge screen in the left wall, currently showing an online comic. Below it was a wide desk. The walls themselves were built of large grey stones, the first she had seen since entering Area 51. There were some rather gruesome paintings hanging on them, maps of muscle systems that looked as though they had been painted from life, twisted cadavers screaming in the fires of hell, and the like. Next to the screen was a large cork note-board covered in photographs and pieces of tatty paper. The floor was covered in a thick red carpet. The strange smell that she had encountered earlier was back again, stronger. Sheila took all this in in a moment, but then her attention was drawn to the high backed swivel chair beside the desk, and the odd rasping noise coming from it. Sheila thought that it sounded strangely familiar, as was the smell. They brought the Illuminati headquarters to mind.

The back of the chair was facing them, but she could just see that Kroenen had his feet up on the desk, and held something metal in his hands. As if he sensed her eyes on him, the German put his feet down and swivelled the chair around. The rasping sound became clear. Kroenen was sharpening his sword. That was where she had heard the noise before, at the Illuminati headquarters, for many of the higher Knights bore edged weapons of some sort. The agent looked up at her.

The first thing President Sheila noticed about him was his mask. It resembled an old gas mask made of some dark metal. Two black glass circles covered his eyes and hid whatever he might be thinking. The Illuminati skill of sensing a person's mind through eye contact would be of no use here. The next thing she noticed was his scars. Kroenen had his shirt off, and she could see in vivid detail each and every incision that criss-crossed his flesh. Sheila had no doubt that she would have found it hard not to stare had she not seen something of this sort before. Certain members of the Illuminati were given to ritual scarring, which this undoubtedly was. It was too regular to be natural.

The President then turned her attention to the rest of Kroenen's clothes. He was wearing black trousers and calf-length black leather boots. A black shirt lay crumpled on the desk behind him.

Kroenen stood and placed the now razor-sharp sword in a sheath at his side. There was another on the opposite side. Now that Sheila could see it more clearly, she could appreciate its strange design. The blade of the baton sword, as Felix had called it, was a double-sided length of metal sharpened to a point at both ends. It was held by a handle set at right angles to the blade.

"Kroenen," Felix said, "this is the new President, Sheila Johnson. I've brought her to see you."

"Hello Kroenen," Sheila said, holding out her hand. Kroenen took it. His palm was rough, probably from use of the sword, and his skin cool.

"_Gueten tag,_ President," he replied, then bowed, and clicked his heels together. How very German, Sheila thought.

There was silence for a moment.

"So you are our top agent?" she asked.

"_Ja_,"

"Why you? Why not someone else?"

Sheila was testing him, as she had been ordered. She knew it could prove dangerous, if the rumours were true, but that was what the bodyguards were for.

"Because I am the best," Kroenen answered her. He was not boasting, merely stating a fact.

Felix moved to stand beside her. He looked worried and put a hand on her shoulder. He obviously guessed what she was trying to do. Sheila shrugged it off. She knew what she was doing.

She glanced at Felix. "Felix here tells me you're a Nazi."

Felix went white and began shaking his head emphatically.

"I have nothing against Jews," Kroenen said quietly, his voice dangerous.

"That's not what I asked," Sheila said sweetly, "Are you a Nazi?"

"_Warun fragst du Schwerge Frage?_" he muttered, "Yes, I suppose I am, but…"

The president interrupted, "I thought anti-Semitism was integral to Nazi philosophy?"

Kroenen slammed his fist down on the desk. It made a noticeable dent.

"I do not condone the slaughter of innocents!"

He stepped forward swiftly until he stood within arm's length of Sheila. His hand slipped down to rest on the hilt of his baton sword.

President Sheila smiled inwardly. She had succeeded in making him angry. Now it was time to test his fighting skills.

One of her huge bodyguards stepped forward.

"Step away from the President," he boomed.

Kroenen looked up at him. He did not seem in the least intimidated. Good.

"And if I don't."

"We might have to teach you something."

"Kroenen laughed. It was a harsh sound, but it suited him. His baton sword was out in an instant, the blade slicing across the throat of the bodyguard. Blood sprayed out, splattering across the carpet, which Sheila now saw was the same colour, on Kroenen's mask, and running down his chest, making it look as though it was his own scars bleeding. The same strange smell flooded the air and this time she recognised it. It was the smell of blood, the smell of death. She shivered.

At seeing his companion going down, the second bodyguard pulled out his gun and snapped off a few shots. Sheila frowned. That wasn't in the plan. The bodyguard should be a fair enough hand to hand fighter. She needn't have worried though. Kroenen moved his baton sword with lightning speed, actually deflecting the bullets. What was that blade made off? They ricocheted off, one hitting a painting, lancing a grinning skeleton, the others slamming into the ceiling, little chips of grey plaster falling. The bodyguard was stunned.

Kroenen drew his other baton sword and leapt at him. One blade slipped through the man's ribs and into his heart, the other neatly removed his head from his shoulders. The blades moved so fast that the man didn't have a chance to move before he was dead. Kroenen wiped his bloody swords on the bodyguard's suit and straightened up. More blood was pumping from the man's neck and pooling on the floor. The German was covered in gore. Despite this he seemed more relaxed. Well that had been the idea. The test was passed.

"I wish you wouldn't do that Kroenen," Felix moaned.

"_Wahnsinn Americanischer. _ He should not have tried to beat me. He was poor sport."

Kroenen looked at President Sheila. "That was a test."

She nodded. She hadn't expected him to be so astute.

Kroenen sheathed his baton swords again and went over to stand by his swivel chair.

"Why? Tests I can understand, but Presidents don't usually sacrifice their followers so easily. You must be Illuminati."

"You're right. We needed to see if you were truly capable of what the rumours said you were."

"Rumours are often blown out of proportion."

"These ones were not."

Sheila would not have usually spoken in front of someone like Felix, but she knew that he probably already knew about the Illuminati, being lord of Area 51.

She glanced at the corkboard behind Kroenen.

"Who are those people?"

"The ones I was told to dispose of."

"Who gave the orders?" Sheila asked casually.

"The previous President."

She was intrigued. The Illuminati had known nothing about any of that sort of business. It seemed Bush hadn't been so loyal as he had seemed. Perhaps that was part of why she had replaced him. She had thought it merely because public opinion was turning against him after the Iraq debacle. Possibly the Grand Master had guessed of his duplicity.

"Bush deceived you even more than that," Kroenen said.

President Sheila was startled. "How…"

"The Illuminati are not the only ones who can tell what others are thinking."

"Go on."

"I will not pretend that I was privy to all of Bush's secrets; I was not, but around here a perspicacious person can learn a lot. It seems that Bush intended for me to eliminate certain key members of the Illuminati, leaving him free to rise up through the ranks."

Sheila gasped. Bush's duplicity seemed to know no bounds.

"I have to say I've never liked Bush much," Kroenen continued. Sheila could understand why; Bush had introduced legislation against supposed Nazis as part of his 'program of fear', a very Orwellian policy.

"I told him I was a Nazi," he said, reading her thoughts again, "but I think he took pleasure in the fact that my own future depended on him. Eventually that was proved wrong. That was why I couldn't let him become even more powerful. Felix here helped me out by sending my message to the Illuminati. You could say that you wouldn't be President if it wasn't for me."

President Sheila was amazed. She had never even suspected Bush. This news was almost unbelievable. She knew though that Kroenen was telling the truth.

"I assume you will want a little while to assimilate this."

Sheila nodded, and turned to leave. She was stopped by a shout from Kroenen. "Here!"

He tossed her something. She deftly caught it and examined it. It was a small gold medallion with a swastika on one side and '_Vielen Gluck_." on the other.

"I'm sure you'll be a good President."

Sheila smiled, and left.


	2. Exposed

Youthful Rebellion: Exposed

Um... hope you are enjoying it. Nightcaster, I wasn't actually taking the Just one Night story any where it just sort of trailed off...

_Karl sat in the darkness of his room. He had been surprised to discover that the new President was female. She was certainly clever though, that little bodyguard idea had worked on him like a charm. His darker side couldn't resist bloodshed. Once, he hadn't had a darker side. Once he had been of one mind..._

It was night when Laura climbed the stairs to Karl's flat, a damp night lit only by the bright lights of Cambridge. She had only met him a few weeks ago when he had joined her Anatomy club after the summer, and already she felt like she was falling in love. He was so kind to her, and he and his friends were so funny! It was as if she had known him for ever.

At the top of the stairs she turned down a narrow corridor which led to a small complex of rooms which was the only place Karl had been able to get accommodation. He had told her that he hadn't planned to come back to Cambridge; he had wanted to go with his father to some other place. He had been strangely reticent about it, which wasn't like him. Usually he was very open with her. She had told him that she could easily get him better rooms, but he had laughed, and said that he liked them.

This was the first time she had been up here; she only knew what it was like from Karl's descriptions and those of her friends. She had a little trouble finding Karl's rooms for they were tucked away at the very back of the building, but when she got there, she found the door ajar, the place silent, and seemingly deserted.

"Karl?" she called, "Karl, are you here?"

There was no answer.

Cautiously Laura poked her head around the door and looked around the small room. It was dimly lit, the lights, from Ikea she thought, were turned down and sticks of incense burned in pots, filling the room with a strange thick smell. She coughed a little; it was a bit too sweet for her. Apart from little swirls of ash the room was surprisingly clean for a bachelor, but she supposed that Karl did have a sort of fetish for cleanliness.

"Karl?" she called again. No answer. There was no-one there. Curious, she opened the door wider and slipped inside. There was a couch in the south-east corner, and a television opposite it. Two doors were set in the north and east sides of the room, probably leading off into a bedroom and toilet. She walked over to one of them and opened it a touch. As she had thought, a bedroom, but with another door leading out of it. What could be behind it?

As she opened it, knowing she shouldn't be prying like this, but unable to stop herself, a shortish hair dropped off the hinges unnoticed. Laura wasn't looking for anything like that, why would she be. Maybe she should have been more careful. She certainly wished she had noticed it later.

The door swung open silently, and when Laura stepped into the room she froze. The first thing that hit her was bright streaks of red down the side walls, and one big one at the far end of the room. Thick black lines on the red scribed out on of the most hated symbols in modern history; swastikas. Nazi banners lined the walls, she realised, and at the top of the room was an especially big one, toppedtoped by an eagle. In front of this a uniform was lying on the floor. Laura walked up to it in a daze and picked it up. It was made of black leather, and she recognised it immediately. _Schlutz-Staffel_. SS. The hated killers of the Jews, and the emblem on the peaked cap proclaimed it to be that of the Death's Head units. What was going on here? It seemed like a bad dream. Maybe Karl was only one of the people who studied the terrible evil of the Nazis. But still it seemed to make a horrid kind of sense. Karl was defiantly Aryan, with his piercing blue eyes and golden hair. And then there was his love of wearing black leather trench coats and boots. Maybe he was a _Sonnenkind, _though they were supposed to be only myth, perfect Aryan children who would hide their Nazi sympathies and work their way into positions of high influence and useuses their powers to support the Nazis causes.

Laura slumped to the ground, feeling a terrible sense of betrayal. She noticed a small, framed photograph standing next to the banner, and picked it up, fearing what it could show. A person in a mask and some sort of sleek black body suit was standing with his arm around a young boy who was obviously Karl. Karl was smiling happily and licking a chocolate ice-cream. He was wearing a sort of scout type uniform in khaki. It reminded her horribly of pictures she had seen of the Hitler Youth. In the background was a beautiful garden, with sculpted hedges and a water fountain, but surrounded by a high wall. Was this Karl's home? There was a woman walking along a path some way behind the two figures, unaware that she was being photographed. She too was very Aryan, with a cruel look in her eyes. Was that Karl's mum? She didn't think so; he didn't look much like her.

Laura stood up. She couldn't stay here, she knew that. If Karl found out that she had seen this… a shiver ran down her spine. And to think that she had come up here to ask him if he wanted to come with her to the synagogue on Saturday. It was lucky that he hadn't known she was Jewish. She had planned to tell him today. Now…

She slipped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her, and left the apartment, trying to make as little noise as possible. As she turned to go down the corridor, she heard footsteps, and a voice humming a tune. She froze, for she recognised the sounds. It was Karl!

"Laura!" he said when he saw her, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh…Karl," She tried to smile, "I…I…just wanted to ask…" She thought quickly. Maybe he wasn't really a Nazi. "…I wanted to ask if you would come to the synagogue with me on Saturday."

Karl smiled quickly, and made an excuse, but it was too late. Laura had seen that flash of hatred in his eyes before he had forced a smile. Her heart sank, and she left for home feeling as though a blanket of despair had been laid over the world. He had seemed so nice…and now this. What had the world come to?

Karl sank onto his bed in exhaustion. He hadn't known. So Laura was Jewish. He felt the familiar surge of hatred as he thought of that. He heard the voice of his father in his mind telling him of the evil creatures that Jews were, filthy, sub-human beasts, corrupting the world. He supposed he was lucky that she hadn't known he was a Nazi, or she would never have told him, and then anything could have happened. But…she had been standing just outside his room, and the door hadn't been locked. Laura could have easily come in. He stood up and checked the hinges of the door leading to what he thought of as "the Nazi room". The hair was gone from where he had put it, on the hinges of the door. She knew. Why had she asked him to come to the synagogue then? Possibly she hadn't believed what she had seen. He couldn't take any chances though. If that knowledge became public, he and his _Sonnenkinder_ friends would be in a lot of trouble. He needed to prevent this information getting out.

Karl pulled open a drawer and from its depths drew a long blade, a handle set at ninety90 degrees. It flashed in the muted light. Laura had to die.

Laura paced up and down in front of the Rector's Office. The decision to come and tell him of what she had learned had not been an easy one, but she knew what she had to do. Karl couldn't be trusted.

Finally, the Rector opened his door and beckoned her to come in. She did so and sat down in the swivel chair in front of the desk.

"So, Laura, what was it you wanted? It had better be something important at this time of night."

"It is important sir. Do you know Karl Kroenen?"

"I do, yes. His parents are very rich from what I've heard."

If that's true, why is he living up in those cramped rooms? Laura thought. Or perhaps it's so no-one finds out what he is.

"Well…sir, I went to see him this evening, and while I was there I saw a room filled with…Nazi regalia. I'm sure that he's a Nazi."

"If what you say is true, this could be quite serious, but you know that students do have the right to free expression."

"Yes but…the right to be a Nazi? I'm a Jew!"

"Ah, yes. You're quite right. I must do something about this. Thank you. You can go now."

Laura stepped out of the university building and began walking down between the tall buildings to the street. As she passed through a particularly dark passage, she heard a noise behind her. She spun round, heart racing, and looked about wildly. There was no-one there. She sighed with relief and turned back, to come face to face with Karl. She shrieked in surprise, and then she saw the glint of metal at his side. She froze.

"Who have you told?" he asked quietly.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play games with me, _Unflater_."

"I didn't tell anyone!"

"You're lying. Why else would you be here in the dead of night."

"I…I…I honestly didn't tell anyone."

"_Hol'dich der Teufel!_ You told the Rector didn't you!"

"No…no…I…"

Karl grabbed her throat and raised a long razor-sharp blade.

"Do you have any idea how much damage you may have done to us? We need to be here, here in Cambridge. Do you know what _mein Vater_ does to those who fail him?"

"Please, please Karl. Don't do this…killing me will get you nowhere."

"Oh, don't worry _Unflater_; I'm not going to kill you. Not yet at any rate. _Vorrucken_!"

He pushed her ahead of him, his weapon to the back of her neck.

"We're going to _das Hauptquartier_."

Franz looked up from his book, uninterested, when Karl came in, but when he saw the girlLaura, he stood up quickly and came over.

"What's this Karl?" he asked, looking concerned. "Are you compromising our hiding place?"

"_Nein_, Franz, do not be stupid. I would not do that."

"Please, Franz, please, help me!" Laura broke in, pleading with him.

"Laura?" Franz said, astonished. "What is going on here Karl?"

"She's Jewish."

"So. If we went after everyone who was Jewish we'd never get anything done."

"She saw my room."

"_Mein Gott!_. You are a fool Karl. Did I not tell you to keep it locked?"

"I did! I think she must have picked the lock."

"What?" Laura cried, "It was open when I got there!"

"But…then, who?"

"It must have been your landlady Karl. She is one of us, and I'm sure she meant to lock it again."

"_Vater_ will not see it that way."

"Why? She did not tell any one did she?"

"She told the Rector."

"_SheiBe_! This is bad, very bad."

"I…I…I only told him about you Karl, not Franz, or anyone else! I didn't know about anyone else!"

"That is one good thing at least," Franz sighed.

"Then, in that case, perhaps _Vater_ will not mind so much if I bring her to him."

"Maybe, Karl, but you'll still get a beating."

"As long as he doesn't let Ilsa do it. I can not stand her!"

"Pray that that doesn't happen, Karl. Pray that that doesn't happen."

"We don't believe in God remember Franz."

The next day Karl received a letter from the Rector. He opened it slowly with trepidation. It contained the worst. He was expelled from Cambridge University forthwith. _Vater_ would not be pleased.

To be continued...Mwahahahahah!


	3. Homecoming

Homecoming

Thanx for the reviews! Karl's problems with Laura continue, and my unimaginativness of thinking up names for Germans is shown, because there's another charecter called Tomas who'll be appearing later on...

_Karl's gaze flickered to the trench coat hanging on the carved hanger by the huge metal door. Along with his SS uniform, it was as much a part of him now as his mask. They had been repaired many times, so many that there was not much of the original material left. He remembered when he had been given these for the first time, just after he had been kicked out of Cambridge…_

Karl pushed Laura forward in front of him impatiently. He didn't want to waste any time in getting back home, for the journey was long and, depending on whether they went by plane or car, rather annoying. Metal detectors meant that Karl couldn't take any weapons with him, and he felt almost naked without some sort of blade around. On the other hand, it would take several days to get back to _Schloss Unterholz_ and the letter Cambridge would send would get there far quicker than that. Karl didn't want to let his father's anger have time to grow too much. The whole thing was making him angry too, and it was Laura who had to suffer the consequences. Well, it **was** her fault.

Franz chuckled slightly from behind him, obviously guessing what was going on in his mind.

"Aeroplane is it Karl?" he asked innocently.

"_Ja_," Karl growled.

"How are we going to get the girl on the plane without her giving the game away?" This question came from Tomas, impatient at being dragged away from his computers. Apparently he had been perfecting his hacking skills.

"He has a point. We can not gag her. People would start to wonder. If she is allowed to get away from us she could tell the officials," Erich, who was studying engineering, put in.

"I'll think of something. Now are we going or what?"

"We're going Karl," Franz told him, smiling behind his back.

Whilst Franz got behind the wheel of the big people carrier, the others piled in, Karl holding a knife to the back of Laura's neck and removing the gag. Tomas leaned over from the very back seats.

"What do you reckon Kroenen'll do to her?" he asked jovially.

"Something pretty nasty I'm sure Tomas," Franz said, a slight flicker of enjoyment in his voice.

"Yes, but what, exactly?" the hacker wanted to know.

Franz sighed. He noticed that Karl was smiling cruelly. "Remember the time when you went into Kroenen's lab looking for the bread knife? Like that."

Karl chuckled. "You were sick when you came back out again," he reminded him. Tomas looked annoyed.

"Yes, but I was younger then! I'm not that squeamish anymore!" he protested.

"You go on saying that Tomas," Erich said, smiling. "You go on saying that."

They had picked Stanstead both because it was near and because it wasn't very busy. They could get a reasonably priced British Airways flight from there to Munich and hire another people carrier to take them to the _Schloss._Karl had grumbled a bit about the cost of leaving the car in the long stay car park, but Franz had pointed out to him that it was **his** parents who were the rich ones - all that stolen gold from the war and arms dealing with war-torn African countries – and it was only right that they should pay, and after that he shut up.

Now Karl sighed as he looked longingly at the long knife he was packing into the single bag of luggage they were taking. There wasn't any need to take changes of clothes; it wasn't all that far to _Schloss Unterholz. _There was no way he could take the weapon onto the plane though.

Erich took the big bag and heaved the shoulder strap up over his head.

"This weighs a ton!" he muttered, looking pointedly at Karl. "It's not as if you'll even need those swords."

"I will."

"There'll be other weapons at the castle."

"It's a bit too late to take them back now, isn't it!"

"Come on. We need to get moving," Franz said. "Lets go get and get those tickets. You did get them didn't you Tomas?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. _Jahwohl!_ It was easy."

"By 'easy' I suppose that means them were free, weren't they."

"_Ja_!"

Franz rolled his eyes. He watched Laura carefully as they headed to the check-in. If she made a break for it, both he and Karl could use their formidable martial art skills to take her down before she went five paces. He hoped though that she wouldn't try to escape. It would be too inconvenient.

Ben looked intently at the screen as the various items of hand luggage slid through the X-ray machine. This was the most entertainment he ever got working here at the airport. The days here were very dull.

Now several black leather trench coats were put down on the rollers, quickly followed by four bags and another coat; some sort of brand name. He glanced up, slightly surprised. Four men with blonde hair and blue eyes and a girl who was looking rather nervous were standing there. As the things passed through the machine he watched with great interest, making sure each took a long time so he could have a good look at it. Several books about Nazis were in there; a Torah in one, which seemed rather out of place; various bits of paper; some magazines in German; food; a PDA; and what he thought was a copy of _Mein Kampf_. Ben wondered who these people were, but of course, he would never find out. He was only an airport employee.

Franz stopped for a moment to pick up a copy of the Daily Mail before they got on the plane. He loved all politics and it was vitally important he keep up with the news, even though he detested trying to handle the broadsheet's pages in the confines of an aeroplane. You never knew what scraps of information could be gleaned from articles that seemed unimportant and dull.

Nothing much else happened as they boarded and waited for take-off. Laura reached into her bag once they were seated and drew out a Torah. Karl looked faintly disgusted, but he could hardly protest here. There was a slight change in the noise of the engines as the plane reached the runway, and then began to accelerate. With a lurch, they were off.

_To be continued when they reach the castle…_


	4. Mystery

The Mystery

Ineed one review for this chapter and one for the previous at least (come on guys, pleeeeeeese) before you're getting any more! Mwahahhahhaah!

_The memory continued…_

Gravel crunched beneath its wheels as the people carrier pulled into the driveway of _Schloss Unterholz_. Up ahead, the massive bulk of the white limestone castle loomed, surrounded by tall trees and beautiful gardens. Outside the perimeter walls were more trees; a small forest in fact, concealing the building from the outside world. Off to one side there was a small fountain which spurted water out from the gaping maws of stone daemons.

Doors slammed as Laura and the four _Sonnenkinder_ got out and began to walk up the wide path to the _Schloss_. Apart from thee noise of the fountain and the gravel underfoot, there was no noise at all. The place was almost unnaturally quiet. The castle seemed deserted.

The front door was a large one, carved from oak and inlayed with strips of metal mapping out a picture of some sort of creature with seven heads. Laura shivered. It seemed to be looking at her. The door swung open at a slight push from Franz, no sound being made by the well-oiled hinges. Somehow this made it even more menacing, as though it had been opened from the inside by some supernatural force.

Inside there was a large hall with bare stone walls and a pattern of black and white marble tiles on the floor. The only thing that showed that this castle was the home of Nazis was a carving of an eagle over the stairs. Each of its feathers was edged with gold leaf and its eyes were small rubies. In its talons it clutched a swastika in an olive wreath. Laura's eyes were dragged away from it by the sound of Karl shouting.

"_Vater_! _Vater_! Are you home?"

There was silence.

"That's odd," Franz said. "I'd have thought he'd be here."

Karl shrugged.

The five of them began to climb the stairs, Laura being pushed ahead. At the top was a landing with the same deep reddish carpet, several doors, and suits of armour in niches along it. Two large Nazi flags were draped at either side of the staircase. Just the sight of them caused a chill of fear to run through her. Tomas and Erich went to each of the doors and checked them in turn, but each time they shook their heads. Franz was frowning. Obviously he hadn't been expecting the place to be deserted. Laura wondered if she ought to be worried about this.

The door at the end of the corridor took them to another staircase, smaller this time, with ticking clocks lining the walls as they climbed up. The steps underfoot were polished oak, but sometimes it seemed as if there were small splashes of red marring its sheen. There was another landing like the first at the top. There was no-one here either. They continued to climb up through the floors, but there was still no sign of anyone.

Eventually the five of them came to an attic, cobwebs clustering in the corners. There was a strong smell of decay in the air, and dust hung in the air, shown up occasionally by the thin beams of light shining through gaps in the roof.

"Look!" Franz exclaimed suddenly, pointing downwards. In the dust before him was a definite trail, leading off into the darkness.

"It's still new," Karl said, kneeling to examine it better. "The dust hasn't had time to re-cover it yet. And I recognise these prints. They're _Vater's_ jackboots!"

"Why would he be up here though?" Franz mused, "There's nothing up here, unless you count those old bricks with the mural on them…"

"Well, let's go find out then," Erich said impatiently.

They set off into the cramped space that was the attic.

Soon the party came to a wall which blocked their advance. Franz went up to it and gave it a thump with his fist.

"That wasn't there before," Tomas said, "I would remember it."

Franz looked at him curiously. "Why is that, Tomas?" he asked.

Tomas looked embarrassed. "I used to come up here a lot to hide from Ilsa after I had played a trick on her."

Karl laughed. "You shouldn't play tricks on your aunt you know," he said.

Tomas ignored him. "I wonder…this was where those bricks were piled up. It used to be pretty difficult to get past them. Do you think that maybe they were put up again to make this wall?"

"I think you're right," Franz replied, nodding, "I think we should try to get around the other side of it. I want to see if there's anything there."

"How, exactly? There's no other way up."

"We might have to knock it down…Karl; do you think you could climb up under the gable from one of the windows below?"

Karl gave Franz a look that bordered on disbelief. "No chance! That's a fifty foot drop! Besides, there's no way to get through the beams under the overhang."

"In that case we'll just have to knock it down."

"That's been put up for a reason! I don't think _Vater_ would bee too pleased if you destroyed something he had worked to construct!"

"We can always rebuild it if we have to," Franz replied calmly.

"Fine!" said Karl, "I'll go and get the sledgehammer."

Franz stayed up in the attic to keep an eye on Laura whilst the others went to find some heavy duty tools, mainly because he was the most responsible. Periodically he ran his hand over the cold bricks, or tapped out melodies on them. Sometimes the floorboards squeaked as he stepped on them. He didn't say anything, but Laura found herself more comfortable with him than with any of the other _Sonnenkinder_.

It wasn't long before the others came back. Karl had a large sledgehammer over his shoulder, as did Tomas, while Erich hefted two pickaxes. He handed one to Franz, and they set to the job. Freshly dried mortar rose in clouds from between the bricks as they began to be knocked inwards, making them cough. Laura watched in silence, knowing she couldn't run. It was hard to see in the half-light, but sometimes she thought she could see specks of dusky red on the tools. She shuddered. Everything in this house seemed to be tainted with blood.

Suddenly there was a final crash and the rest of the bricks fell. The dark tunnel of the attic stretched away behind it, and it was impossible to make out how far it went on for. Franz picked up one of the fallen bricks and took a closer look at it. He could see that it had paint on the other side of it. It seemed that the wall had been constructed with the mural on the inside. He wondered how that had been done. Maybe someone was still inside or, more likely, there was another exit that none of them knew about. It wouldn't be hard; the castle was a maze once you got past the landings.

He beckoned for the others to follow him, and they set of once more. Unbeknownst to any of them, in the deep dark to either side of the fallen wall, someone was standing and watching.

Who is it, who is it! Aren't you aching to find out! Review and I'll tell allllllllll!


	5. The Gift

The Gift

Oops, I almost put the next chapter up first by mistake. So more commenty stuff is in the next Chapter. Mysterious person revealed!

Karl, Franz, Tomas, Erich and Laura stared in what could only be termed amazement, and in Laura's case possibly fear, at the sight that met their eyes at the end of the attic.

"O.K. I **know** that wasn't there before!" said Tomas in awe.

Spread out before them was a vast hall, though how that could be possible in this attic was a mystery. To either side of a thin bridge was a long drop to the floor which was covered in gears and cogs of some sort, and on the walls stretching away left and right were many openings and gothic styled balconies. On the other side of the hall, which the bridge led to was a hexagonal building decorated with more gothic carvings and sculptures of strange daemons.

"Do you like it?" came a harsh, rough voice behind them, and they all jumped, except Franz. Instead, he just turned around and regarded the speaker with his calm gaze. He was dressed in a skin-tight suit of some blackish material, leather gloves and jackboots, what looked like an old gasmask, and he had two strange swords sheathed at his sides.

"I thought someone was watching us," Franz said, "but I didn't think it would be you, sir."

Kroenen tilted his head slightly, causing the glass 'eyes' of his mask to glint.

"I based it on the Master's mausoleum in Russia," he told them, gesturing to the massive room. There was a slight hint of irony in his voice. "I suppose it really is his mausoleum now, though I doubt he'll stay dead for long. Follow me; I have something else I need you to see."

"Um…_Vater_…I have something to tell you…" Karl ventured.

"I already know."

"And you're…you're not angry?"

Kroenen turned to look at his son. "Oh, I am angry. Very angry. But that can wait, for now."

At this quiet pronouncement, a shudder of dread seemed to run like electricity through Karl, and he looked down, with quiet terror in his eyes.

"I suppose you brought the Jew to appease me, as if I were the Ogdru Jahad."

"Yes."

"Well, I'm sure I'll find some use for her."

The five teenagers followed Kroenen across the bridge and into the building that seemed almost to float in the centre of that vast hall. Inside it was a single chamber, the walls lined with sharp metal spikes, the floor polished black obsidian. At the very centre thin cracks could just be made out, marking another smooth circle. Kroenen went over to a small black panel by the entrance and pulled off his left glove and touched his hand to it. Franz noticed Laura staring and he supposed this was natural. Kroenen's skin was very pale, with countless old scars and still stitched-up cuts twisting across it. He and the other _Sonnenkinder_ were used to it, but it must be startling to someone who had never seen it before.

There was a grinding sound echoing through the walls now, and the circle in the centre of the room was slowly rising up, revealing itself to be only the top of a cylinder of tinted glass. Some sort of shape could be discerned within it, but not very clearly. Then, when it was fully out of the floor, the glass slid back, and everyone's eyes opened wide, most especially Laura's.

It was Kroenen's old uniform, from the days of the Second World War, an S.S. uniform with a trench coat over the top of it; secret blades hidden in its sleeves. Karl stared at it as if in a dream.

"I think it's about time you had this," Kroenen told him.

"Why?" Karl said softly, hardly daring to breath.

"I understand that you find the lessons at Cambridge a little boring. So I think it's time for you to do a little…experimenting on your own." He held up something which glinted. It was an Iron Cross. "I think I might just let you have this too, after you've proved yourself." They all knew what he meant.

"How many?"

"Oh I'll leave that up to you. But make sure that it's impressive. And I will require…proof."

"Of course _Vater_!" Karl replied, bowing, an expression of awe on his face. "Of course!"

Franz thought that Kroenen would probably have been smiling under his mask; if it hadn't been Kroenen that is.

As they were coming back down the stairs out of the attic, with Karl holding the uniform as if it was made of delicate china, Franz stepped back a pace to ask Kroenen something.

"Sir, how is it that you could make that huge…place…up there while we were away? How could it even fit?"

"This castle can be deceptive, you know that. It wasn't actually that big on the outside. And as for how I made it…" he shrugged, "if I told you that, I would have to kill you, and that would be a waste, wouldn't it."

Franz wasn't sure whether Kroenen was joking or not. That line sounded just a bit too clichéd for him. He wasn't about to test his luck though.

After Karl had gotten changed into his new clothes, and very striking he looked too, his father took them down to his lab to decide what to do with Laura. The place was very dark except for a few areas where the bright clinical light illuminated marble or metal tables, some tilted at angles, others flat, with deep runnels down them. In some, sticky red blood was dripping down into the drainage system, already half congealed. Franz was reminded strongly of a table he had seen at a visit to the Imperial War Museum in London, in the Holocaust Exhibition, which had been used in one of those so called hospitals where the doctors eagerly practised involuntary euthanasia. These were of the same design.

Kroenen lifted a box of a chair and sat down, toying with a scalpel that lay on a table nearby.

"What **shall** we do with you?" he said softly to Laura. She didn't reply, but she was trembling with fear. The smell of blood, death, and burned flesh was in the air. "I wonder…"

Kroenen turned to his son. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

"No, _Vater_, I'm fine."

"Well, I have some plans, but for the moment, I think that I shall keep her for a while yet. If you're not hungry, perhaps you should go and do a bit of…hunting, hmmm?"

"Yes, _Vater_," Karl replied, bowing again, and left.

"I don't suppose you want anything to eat?" Kroenen asked the others. "Didn't think so. You can go."

They too left, leaving Laura alone with Kroenen in the dark laboratory.

_Karl would have continued thinking about his youth, but he was interrupted by Felix at his door. _

"_I have a mission for you. Orders from the President herself. Do you remember Versipillis IV?" the head of Area 51 said._

"_Of course! The werewolves! I thought President Bush had dealt with the ones that were left?"_

"_They're back, as Versipillis V. You need to deal with one of their agents."_

_Karl nodded. Back to work then. His life was not exactly easy…_


	6. It doesn't quite work

It doesn't quite work

Thanks for all the reviews!I feel so loved! - There's lots of German in some of the later chapters to come, so translations have been added. Personally, some of the German is a bit dodgy but I have to put it in! It's just cos I'm strange. shrugs Poor karl gets quite a beating in this. Same rules re reviews count!

Karl walked casually down the empty streets, his head bowed against the driving rain, searching for his target. He was armed with his baton swords, hidden in the sheathes at his sides. The blades that had been a part of the uniform had broken several years ago.

Eventually he spotted the man, waiting for a bus on the corner of the street. The German's hand slipped to the hilt of his baton sword underneath his trench coat. This would be no great challenge.

As he drew within a couple of paces of the target, Karl drew his sword and angled it up so that it would slip under the man's ribs and into his heart. He drew close enough to strike.

Suddenly the target lashed out with unbelievable strength, sending Karl flying through the air to hit hard against a brick wall. He felt ribs break.

The target turned to face him, and howled to the skies. He threw off his raincoat and began to grow. His nose and mouth elongated to form a muzzle and fur began to sprout. The seams on his clothes split.

"What?" Karl whispered, shocked. But it wasn't full moon, how could the creature be changing now? Such thoughts were quickly driven out of his head as the werewolf leapt at him. He drew his other baton sword and darted out of the way, bringing his swords across to slice into the flesh of the monster. For all the notice the werewolf gave the wounds they might have been midge-bites. The beast growled at him. Karl ran. He sprinted through the streets, thinking wildly. What was it that hurt werewolves? He ought to know; he had faced enough of the beasts, but surprise and fear drove it out of his head. He turned a corner. A dead-end! He glanced around. No way out except up. With the help of his twin blades he began to scale the wall. Reaching the top he swung over onto the flat roof and waited.

Soon the werewolf entered the alley, sniffing the air. Karl knew he would only get one shot at this. As the beast moved beneath him he leapt down, driving the blade of the baton sword into its head. The monster howled in pain and shook him off. He landed heavily, his cracked ribs erupting in white-hot pain. He was lucky that he was tougher than normal humans or that would have pierced a lung. He staggered to his feet. The werewolf ripped the baton sword out of its head. It seemed unfazed by the oozing wound. It charged him. He plunged his second blade into its side, but not before it clawed him across the chest. His leather jacket tore and he felt rather than saw the blood spurting out. The creature howled again and pulled the sword out of its chest. It growled at him.

Karl leapt for the first baton sword lying where the beast had thrown it. He knew it would do him no good, but he didn't want to leave it behind. The werewolf seemed confused and stood swaying slightly, black blood trickling from its swiftly closing wounds. Karl grabbed his other sword. It seemed that the head wound he had given the beast had temporarily dazed it. All too quickly, it was recovering though. It shook its head and fixed its gaze on the German. He darted away around the corner and the monster followed. He was running down a street full of shops. There was no one around. A sign caught his eye. Silversmith! Of course! How could he be so stupid? Just what he needed.

The werewolf was right behind him. Karl skidded into the doorway and kicked in the door. The beast was too close; it sunk its claws into his arm, over the bone. He ripped free with a nasty splintering sound. The creature's claws scored deep marks through the bone. Blood spurted. The monster was left holding a handful of muscle and splinters of bone. It howled in frustration.

Karl glanced around, looking for something sharp he could use on the werewolf. He felt dizzy from lack of blood. A glint of moonlight off a silver carving knife caught his eye and he staggered toward it and swept it up. The beast leapt into the shop. The German turned around, raising the knife. The creature pounced, and Kroenen drove the knife between its ribs and into its heart. The werewolf knocked him to the ground and began to shrink as it died. In moments it had once more become the man it had been.

Karl shoved the dead body off himself and managed to get to his feet. One more thing he had to do. He staggered over to the door, swung it shut and slid the bolt over. This done he slumped to the floor and tried to stop the blood pumping from his arm. Blackness swirled around him and he sank into the darkness.

Mr Smith was in for a shock that morning when he went downstairs. He saw the blood first; dark red and splattered all over his dark grey carpet. Then his gaze fell on the two bodies lying on the floor; the pale, middle aged man with one f his own knives in his chest, and the strangely clad man with the mask who was covered in blood.

Mr Smith was not a young man and the sight of these apparently dead bodies did nothing for his health. When he had sufficiently recovered he phoned 911.

The police car arrived within the hour. During this time Mr Smith became more and more distraught. As he feared to move the body of the masked man the police were forced to come in the back door.

"Describe to us what happened here sir," said the first. His nametag proclaimed him to be Joe Rochmann.

"I woke this morning and came down here as I normally do," the Silversmith began, "and I saw these two bodies lying here. I have no idea how they got here. I think they might have broken in. "

"Why does that man have one of your knives in him?" asked the second, Pete Durnut, suspiciously.

"I suppose the other man must have stabbed him with it."

"Hmmm." Pete was not convinced.

Joe moved closer to the man slumped by the door. He examined him closely.

"Pete, this man is not dead!" he called.

"What?"

"He's still breathing."

"Call an ambulance!" Pete ordered Mr Smith.

The two police officers crouched beside the masked man.

"I have seen this sort of uniform before, Joe said.

"Really?"

"Ah! Now I remember! It was in a war museum. Rommel wore it, and many high-ranking Nazi officers. Look," Joe pointed to a medallion strung about the man's neck, "that's an Iron Cross."

"He's a Nazi?"

Joe nodded.

"I'm beginning to regret asking that old guy to call an ambulance. Bush passed a law last year, before you came here. All Nazis or Nazi supporters are to be arrested. There were fears that Nazi survivors from the Second World War were attempting to establish a Fourth Reich."

"I didn't think there were any Nazis left."

"Well you're obviously wrong. We have one right here."

To be continued... We will be seeing more of Joe...

Nightcaster, it is sort of the same joe as on the deviantart page, but with less blood. This is the original but I changed Joe for the seeds of destruction site.


	7. Healing

Healing

Can you guys review this and the chap before pleeeeeese! I don't remember whether I said this but this Joe is sort of what Joe from SoD and my DA page might have been if the circumstances were different. Karl decides tobeat someone up in this one Mwahahhahahah! He also meets someone who gets him mixed up with his father. He doesn't attempt to xplain cos it would probably just confuse the guy...

It took the ambulance only minutes to arrive. It seemed they were having a slow day. Two stretcher-bearers overseen by a female nurse came into the silversmith. The nurse took in the scene with a practised eye. With quick gestures she signalled for the stretcher-bearers to take the wounded man to the ambulance. She herself stayed behind for a few moments.

"Murder?" she asked the policemen. They nodded.

"Know anything about him?" She jerked her thumb at the unconscious German.

"Not really. We have reason to believe that he's a Nazi, but apart from that…" Joe shrugged.

The nurse nodded and left.

Karl began to regain consciousness. He felt weak still, and the pain from his injuries although lessened, was still agonising. He knew he was in a hospital from the intrusive feel of an IV drip in his arm. He was relieved though to feel that his mask was still on.

Now that he was awake he began to consciously speed up his healing processes, using the magic that had been a part of him ever since that fateful day… He searched out the extent of the damage the werewolf had caused. He had at lest eight broken or cracked ribs, claw wounds across his chest, a huge gaping wound in his upper arm, and numerous small cuts that he hadn't noticed at the time they were inflicted. He had better concentrate on his arm otherwise he could easily lose the use of most of it. Normal scar tissue wouldn't work for that; he would need to spend a long time carefully crafting new muscle and blood vessels for it. The rest he could leave to heal naturally, maybe speeding the healing of the ribs a little. He would have started then but a shadow fell across him and a hand lightly touched his arm.

"Are you awake?" asked a soft female voice.

"I am," Karl replied, his voice slightly harsher than usual.

"I'm surprised. We didn't think you would wake up for a while yet."

"How long…"

"…Have you been asleep? Two days."

Karl nodded slowly. That sounded about right.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good, all things considered."

The nurse left and he began to work on his arm.

By the time two weeks had passed Karlwas completely healed. The doctors and nurses of the hospital were amazed at his speedy recovery, but he gave them no clue as to how he had managed it. Even though the Armour of souls was many miles away he could still harness its power.

Very soon the policemen would be coming for him. He could escape before then but wouldn't leave his baton swords, which were almost certainly in their possession. He had asked what they had done with his uniform and had been less than pleased to learn that it had been almost destroyed. The Iron Cross though was undamaged and he had hung it once more around his neck. When he got back to Area 51 he would find a new uniform or, if necessary, make one himself.

There was a knock at the door at the end of the ward. A nurse opened it. Two policemen were standing there dressed in the black and indigo modern uniforms. The patient next to him, a bank robber whose leg had been broken by an attack robot, leant over and whispered, "Do you think they've come for you or me?"

"They've come for me."

Karl watched them through the darkened circles of his mask as they said something to the nurse and advanced up the aisle. They stood one either side of his bed. He could see their name tags, Pete Durnut and Joe Rochmann. A German. Maybe I can turn this to my advantage, he thought.

"_Was mast du mitt diese wahnsinn Americanischer_? What are you doing with this crazy American>" he asked Joe.

Joe Rochmann started slightly.

"What did he say?" Pete asked.

"He asked me what I was doing with you."

"What do you mean by that?" Pete demanded.

"I mean that a patriotic German shouldn't be working with an idiot American."

"Maybe in your eyes Nazi, but not in the eyes of most Germans."

Karltilted his head, and the glass circles over his eyes glinted.

"My name is Karl Kroenen."

"Well Karl," Pete said, "you are coming with us. We need to ask you a few questions."

"No point in asking for my phone call, Karl thought. It would not be granted to him.

He rose, still dressed in the green of a hospital patient. Joe tossed him some clothes. Jeans, boots, blue shirt, jacket. Not what he would have chosen, but they would do.

The prison was a dark grey building, foreboding and with an evil air about it. Karl would probably have liked it if it hadn't been for his predicament.

Paul brought the car to a halt and they got out. A sign above the door proclaimed this to be the Washington State prison. They had come quite a way then.

The policemen signed him in, and they walked down the dim passageways.

Eventually they reached a cell filled with what looked to be some of the toughest criminals in the prison. It was here that he was sequestered.

Karl sat on a bench and looked around his cell. Two of the criminals were arguing over the best way to kill a man. He was tempted to join them, but thought better of it. At least he had his Iron Cross back. He was very fond of it.

One of the criminals sidled over to him.

"I'm Cobra LaMoaz. I'm in for attempted murder. You?"

Karl felt like humouring the man. "Karl Kroenen. Murder and Nazism."

A thin man in the corner looked up at this and stared at him.

Cobra whistled appreciatively.

"Who'd you kill?"

" Just this man," Karl had no wish to elaborate. Cobra would have said more, but just then a tall, burly man came over. He glared at Karl.

"I hear we have a Nazi scum in this cage with us," he growled.

Karl stood. The two men were about the same height, but the other was much bulkier than he was.

The man's arm came forward in a powerful punch, but Karl easily dodged, and grabbed the fist as it came past. The man over balanced slightly, and he bought his hand down on the other's forearm. There was a crack and the man cried out in pain. His arm was broken. The German gave a final jerk for good measure and let his assailant fall. The man groaned in pain. Karl sat back down.

The thin man hurried over to him.

"Colonel Kroenen?"

"Do I know you?"

"You contacted me ten years ago. You wanted information my grandfather had on former SS commanders."

"I remember you. Your grandfather inducted you into the SS underground, didn't he?"

The man nodded.

"You were only ten then," Karl continued, "You've changed a lot."

"You haven't changed at all. If anything you look younger."

Karl laughed.

"Well that's _my_ secret."

Cobra listened as the two men talked about the years gone by.


	8. Interrogation

Interrogation

Thanks for all the reviews! Karl recieves some rather nasty treatment from a Jewish Sargeant.

Joe Rochmann went and fetched Kroenen when the Sergeant called. He was amazed at the Nazi's quick recovery. He had looked near death's door, and now…

When he returned, Mary Crimsonne was waiting at the interrogation table, the two strange weapons they had found with the man before her. She stared hatefully at Kroenen when he was brought in.

"This is the Nazi who is in for murder?" she snapped.

Joe nodded. He glanced at Kroenen, and got the strange impression that he was grinning under his mask.

"I can hardly interrogate him with that mask on."

Kroenen stiffened slightly.

_Nie!_ Never!>Never Came a sharp, angry thought. Joe started slightly in surprise. He had never told anyone of his strange gift for reading other's thoughts, and nowadays it was rare that he heard anything. This Kroenen was strange indeed.

He reached out with his thoughts. _Warann nicht?_ Why not?> He mentally asked.

Kroenen turned at the sound of his thought-voice and regarded Joe thoughtfully. Seeing this Mary also turned her flinty gaze on him.

"You're a German, Rochmann. Persuade him to take off that metal monstrosity."

Now Joe was sure Kroenen was grinning, though his thoughts were also bitter. The police officer stepped closer.

"_Aufnehme_, Take it off. >" he said, pushing the thought of compliance with his mind. He felt Kroenen's mind falter slightly then harden.

"_Aufnehme_," he repeated, his mind almost pleading.

The Nazi sighed.

"_Ich __es so wichtig_? Is it so important?> "

"_Ja_,"

Kroenen reached up and began to flick open the clips that held his mask on. Mary Crimsonne shot Rochmann a satisfied glance.

The Nazi pulled the black metal mask off and shook out his long blonde hair. He had deep blue eyes, and they fixed the Sergeant with a stony glare. That was not what caused the two other policemen to gasp though. Kroenen's face was patterned with intertwining pale scars, accenting his features and giving him a sinister appearance. Even Mary seemed shocked.

Joe caught a flash of satisfaction and amusement from the Nazi as he leaned back, keeping his intimidating gaze on Crimsonne.

"Well, let's continue this interrogation," said the Sergeant, recovering slightly.

Kroenen nodded. He seemed bored.

"Who was the dead man we found by you in the silversmiths?"

"His name was Vladimir Kalscof. He was a Versipillis V agent."

A flash of confusion passed across Crimsonne's face. "What is Versipillis V?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Mary changed tack.

"Are these yours?" she asked, gesturing to the swords.

"_Ja_."

Joe felt Kroenen's longing to have the blades back in his hands, to be out of the prison and back in his home, to be with, who was that? He got only a faint impression, whoever it was; Kroenen did not want him to see her face.

"What are they made of? It's no metal alloy we know."

"Now that would be telling.

Mary was getting impatient. She gestured for Paul and Joe to leave. They did so reluctantly.

"He's a strange one," Paul said, "Did you see those scars!"

Joe was paying scant attention; his mind fixed on the room they had left. He merely nodded.

Crimsonne was standing now, walking over to stand behind Kroenen. The German suddenly opened his thoughts, flooding Joe with impressions. He felt as though it was he himself in the room with the Sergeant.

"I will be truthful with you," Crimsonne was saying, "I hate you Nazi scum."

Kroenen said nothing.

"One of you, or your crazy supporters, killed my uncle less than a month ago. He was guilty of nothing; he was a harmless soul."

"Jew?"

"Yes," she hissed.

"I know…"

"What do you mean?"

Joe already knew. Kroenen was sending him his memories of the event. It appeared the 'harmless soul' was not as harmless as Mary thought. There was pain in those thoughts, enough to make him grit his teeth, and he knew the Nazi was sparing him the worst of it.

There was a young man now, pleading with his father not to do this, ignored, shrugged off. Crimsonne's cousin? Now the teenager was sneaking into the cellar in the dead of night, unlocking Kroenen's bonds, bringing him his blades and uniform. Then blood and death, baton sword ending the life of the uncle.

"You killed him?" Mary was shouting, "And what about my cousin, did you kill him too?"

_Nein_, Kroenen's thoughts told Joe. It wasn't my _fault_. The young man holding that baton sword, looking at it with grief- filled eyes. Ending his own life rather than live with the memories of his father's deeds.

"Stand up, you murderer," Crimsonne hissed.

Kroenen stood and faced her, expressionless but for his eyes, which glowed with barely contained energy.

The Sergeant stood stock still for a moment, then spun and kicked him where it hurt. Hard. Really hard. The Nazi doubled over with a muffled sound and dropped to his knees. He looked as if he was about to be sick. Despite the mental blocks on the pain, Joe still felt as if his groin was on fire. Pete noticed his discomfort and looked at him puzzled.

"It's nothing," he said, wishing it was.

Back in the interrogation room, Mary Crimsonne kicked Kroenen in the side and stepped over him to the door, opening it and glaring at the two policemen waiting there.

"Go down to the store and bring up the boxes labelled T1-12," she ordered Pete. He saluted and ran to get them.

Joe felt sick to his stomach, though whether this was because he knew what those boxes contained, or just because of referred pain he didn't know.

"Don't do this," he begged the Sergeant. She shot him a strange look.

"Why ever not?" she seemed puzzled, "Don't tell me you're taking his side."

It was no use. He'd have to tell her his secret.

"Because I'm an Empath. I know what he's thinking. I feel what he feels." That was simplifying it a bit to say the least.

Crimsonne recoiled as though he was a rattlesnake; "You're a what!"

"I'm an Empath."

She looked at him in disgust and revulsion. Then an idea seemed to occur to her, and a sinister smile spread across her face.

"Well then, _Empath_, let's see how you like all the thoughts that will fit in your twisted head."

She grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him towards the door. He struggled uselessly.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see.

Joe curled up on the cold stone floor trying to think past the flood of thoughts and pictures as the minds of the entire prison were concentrated in this small cell. Impressions and memories swirled around him, entering his mind through the psy-metal aerial glued to his temple, overwhelming his mental shields by sheer force.

Chief amongst those was the strong metal presence of Kroenen. From what he could tell amongst the other thoughts, Mary Crimsonne was practising her own brand of 'interrogation' on him. Beneath the stupor of truth and will-breaking drugs and the mind-wracking pain though, there was something deeper, a strange presence. Maybe it was the Nazi's sub-conscious...

To find out what it is, and how Karl gets out of _this, _review and I'll put up the next chapter. Pleeeese!


	9. Iron cross

Iron Cross

_Thanks for the review Haku, and it's something like that. Versipillis V are mainly Communists from Slavic countries, which is why they hate the very Capitalist Illuminati so much. Transylvania is the home of the werewolf. :D_

_This is anotheer flashback to help fill in some gaps.

* * *

_

Karl knelt on the floor in front of his father, his breathing harsh from running all the way back to the castle. Far off in the distance could be heard the scream of a police siren, and the similar tone of an ambulance. He could feel Kroenen's gaze on him, even though it was hidden behind his mask.

"I had not expected you to do anything this quickly," his father said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"I…did not…mean too," Karl panted, still out of breath.

"Well, it seems that it was quite something. Unfortunately for you, the police were a bit too close." Kroenen picked up a remote from the table. "Look."

The TV flickered on, and a newsreader appeared, quickly shuffling her papers. She looked slightly flustered.

"We interrupt your normal viewing to bring you this news bulletin on the assassination of the left-wing, and rumoured homosexual, politician, Hermann Schmidt. The mysterious killer fought his way past several bodyguards before beheading the official, killing two and seriously wounding several others. He then fled from the apartment, and it is unlikely that this event would have been known until much later had it not been for the close proximity of a police patrol car that was passing. PCs Muller and Heimlich were alerted by the shouts of one of the guards and caught a glimpse of the assassin as he left. We also have some footage from the security cameras."

A fuzzy image appeared on the screen. It was quite plainly Karl, though in the gas mask an outsider would never have known it was him.

"The police are completely baffled about the identity of the killer. They believe that the man is a terrorist of some sort, but as of yet it is not known to which organisation he belongs. We now return you to your usual viewing until more is known."

Kroenen turned back to his son. "Well, at least they have no idea who you are. You did well. But tell me, why did you kill him, in particular, and why so soon?"

"It was…something of a mistake. I had not planned it, but it was so tempting, and…well… I couldn't help myself."

His father laughed at this. "Very good!" he exclaimed. "You should wait until this has died down before killing again, but if you really can't help yourself, you ought to kill someone who won't be missed."

"Of course _Vater_," Karl replied. "I shall do as you say."

* * *

It was about a month before the murder of Hermann Schmidt had left the news, to be replaced by the stunning news that the G8 was coming to Berlin in a couple more months. Karl had by that time devised a plan to win him his father's approval, and the Iron Cross he so wanted to be given. He was certain that his idea would do this, although it would be hard to pull off. But first, he would have to speak to the other _Sonnenkinder_ and get their help.

* * *

"Tomas," came a call from the door. Tomas did not look up, but kept his eyes fixed on the screen. This was a crucial part of the hacking process and he needed to give it his full attention or he would be caught. The systems on these particular bank accounts were extremely advanced, but he was confident that he could break them, and conceal the imbalance caused by the money the Neo-Nazis had stolen.

"Just a little longer…" he hissed through clenched teeth as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

The person standing just outside his room sighed, but didn't speak again until at last Tomas uttered a triumphant yell and slumped back in his chair.

"Are you finished?"

Tomas turned around. It was Karl. "Hey, Karl," he said. "Let me guess; you want my help for this special scheme of yours hmm?"

Karl nodded. Tomas smiled. "Well, just tell me what it is you want doing, and it will be done. Your wish is my command."

Karl laughed at that.

"I'm serious!" Tomas told him, laughing too.

"Why? What do _you_ want?"

Tomas blushed slightly. What he really wanted… no. It wasn't exactly suitable. "I need a few things, but I can't ask Kroenen or my Aunt. I'd like you to go down to the center and take them."

"Steal them you mean." Karl shrugged. "Ok. What things?"

"I have a list." Tomas rummaged among the many papers on his desk and dug a tattered piece of paper out. "Here."

Karl scanned it quickly. "I don't know why _Vater _wouldn't let you have any of this stuff. It seems perfectly innocent to me."

"Oh, you know what they're like."

"I'll go and get these tonight. Meanwhile, I need you to find some way of getting me into the G8 summit. Possibly as a bodyguard or something similar."

Tomas nodded, and Karl left.

Next Karl went to speak to Erich. He was out in the garage making a few repairs to their people carrier.

"Erich," Karl asked, "can I ask a favour?"

"If you must."

"Can you get me the schematics for the G8 summit? And also, I would like to know the best place to position a large amount of explosives to get the maximum result."

"So that's your plan is it. It will certainly work. I would suggest though that you finish off the world leaders yourself. Kroenen likes that sort of thing more." Erich gestured with a spanner. "Explosives are too impersonal for him."

"Thanks." Karl nodded. "You're right. And I think I should let it be captured on film. The world should see our true power." He smiled. "This will truly be a sight to remember."

* * *

Tomas started to assemble the parts that Karl had brought him late the next night. He had already hacked into the site that contained the registers for the bodyguards who were detailed to form the retinues for the world leaders and slipped Karl's picture and details onto it, under a false name of course. He had also printed of the relevant documentation that Karl would need to get in to the place. Everything was ready.

Now he slotted the last microchip into place. Karl had been right when he had said that the components themselves looked innocent enough, but he knew that Kroenen would have realised what they were truly for. Finally he would be able to get past the blocks that had been placed on his computer system when he was first given in it. Kroenen himself could access the computer to computer link and still have no idea what he was actually doing. The computer would instead tell him a complete lie. It was perfect, and he could never have done it without Karl's help.

* * *

Karl mentally thanked Tomas for his help as he walked into the G8 building. He knew from just looking around at the place that he would never have gotten in had he not been placed on the roster of guards. Now all that was to be done was to carefully place the special explosives he had brought in, just far enough away from thee world leaders to avoid killing them, but close enough to wipe out the bodyguards. Of course, they had searched him on their way in, but this was no conventional bomb. It could not be detected by any normal means. He smiled inwardly at the havoc he was going to cause.

* * *

George Jarratt glanced up sharply. He had just felt a very strange and very strong magical presence enter the building, and although its true nature was hidden from him he could feel a darkness within it. He looked over at Constantine Beaumont, the current President of France and made a small signal. Constantine nodded. He knew what that meant. George was his current occult advisor, and the President trusted him when it came to matters of magick.

George slipped silently from the table and headed off towards the source of the disturbance. He wondered what it was. It seemed oddly familiar, as though he or one of the others in the Brotherhood of Ynyr had encountered it before. It almost reminded him or the infamous Thule Society.

The presence he had sensed was quite near now, down in the basement of the hall. It had stopped and was doing something he couldn't make out. He ran quickly down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. At the bottom he poked his head around a pillar to try to catch sight of the presence. It was a young man, German probably, with quite long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing a long leather trench coat and pulling various items out of his pack. He couldn't have been more than twenty, perhaps not even that. George's blood ran cold. He had seen such things as this before, though not in pieces but as a whole. It was a black magick bomb. He knew he had to get away, had to warn Constantine, had to try and stop this man. The taint of darkness was stronger now, and it was definitely that of the Thule Society. But not quite that. It was strangely different. He had no time to wonder about that though. He had to go, and quickly.

* * *

President Constantine was felling extremely bored. They had come here to talk about trade issues and the continuing problem of world poverty, but the whole thing was degenerating quickly into the usual arguments about who had promised to help whom, and who was currently on the rise in the Illuminati. He knew that Jarratt disproved of the Illuminati, but he didn't truly understand that to be anyone of any importance, you had to be Illuminati. Of course, there were some non-Illuminati radicals out there, but they were mainly contained by their Illuminati counterparts.

Just then, Jarratt came running up the stairs in a panic, shouting something incoherent about a bomb. Constantine frowned and everything turned into chaos.

Outside a couple of reporters who had been given an anonymous tip off saw the explosion and ran towards the building. This was what they had been called here for, and they wouldn't be disappointed.

George saw the young man stalking through the clouds of thick smoke in a haze. Around him the various leaders and their attendants were starting to get up, stunned and battered, but seemingly unhurt. For their bodyguards though it was a different story. George could smell the stink of blood in the air around them and could hear screams in the distance. He struggled to his feet.

The man stopped in front of him. "You," he said. "You tried to warn them. How did you know?"

George blinked in surprise. He had expected the man to have realised that he was a white magician, after all, he must be a powerful black sorcerer from his aura, but that didn't seem to be the case. "You have failed sorcerer," he said. "The world leaders are still alive."

The young man looked slightly puzzled. "Sorcerer?" he asked. "I am no sorcerer. I have a little skill in magick it is true, but I am nothing compared to my father."

George was amazed. If this man did not think himself powerful, then how strong must his father be?

"Anyway," the young man continued. "It was not my intention to kill them. I want to kill them myself, in person. My father would not reward me otherwise."

"Who…who is your father?" George asked.

"Karl Kroenen." He replied nonchalantly. "I am Karl Kroenen Junior."

George almost froze in terror. Karl Kroenen! The head of the Thule Occult Society, presumed killed in the Second World. How had he lived this long? He must have used some dark magic to prolong his life.

"Now the slaughter will start!" Karl Kroenen Jr. said, a sadistic smile on his face, and lifted what looked like an old gas mask from his pack, strapping it on to conceal his face. It could have been seventy years ago; he looked exactly like his father from the old photographs.

"I…I can not allow this!" George said, wondering if this would be the last few minutes of his life. Even if Karl Jr. was untrained, he was still more than a match for him in pure strength, and the deaths of the bodyguard would only fuel his strength.

"I don't have time for you!" his opponent said angrily, crossing his arms in front of him, then snapping them down to his sides. Long blades shot out of his sleeves, and he knocked George aside with a single magickally augmented blow. He leapt away into the smokes.

George struggled to his feet and hurried after him. He knew he had to protect his President from this bloodthirsty monster.

"Are you getting all this?" the reporter asked eagerly to his cameraman as they lurked on the edge of the billowing smoke.

"Oh yeah!"

A few meters in front of them was a ghastly scene of bloody killing. The masked assailant was sweeping through the assembled leaders and their aides with deadly grace. They were almost all dead now, their blood soaking into the floorboards. Lastly the man turned to the President of France, Constantine Beaumont, who was standing defiantly in front of an overturned table.

"You will not get away with this!" he yelled at the assassin. "Our countries will not stop until you are punished!"

"They will never find me."

Another man came stumbling out of the smoke. It was George Jarratt.

"You again!" the man snarled angrily.

"I will not give up."

"You don't have to do this George," Constantine said.

"Yes I do. Come on then. I challenge you dark one."

"It's your funeral," the assassin said with a shrug.

They faced off, their respective magicks crackling around them, invisible to those without their third eye opened. Then suddenly they unleashed those energies. Karl's attack was pure strength, without the finesse training would have brought, whilst that of George was far more subtle. He had not been expecting the sheer force of the psychic blow though, and he jerked as though he had been shot. He kept his own attack going even so, and let it slip like oil through the crude shields his dark opponent had raised. The dark magick cut off suddenly as Karl was momentarily confused. George knew that it would not work for long; white magic was not really magick to fight with, and he would have no chance of winning in the long run.

"Constantine, come on!" he shouted. "We must leave now!"

The French President stared in confusion at Karl for a moment but then turned and followed George out of the half destroyed building.

* * *

Karl sank into a chair and sighed. That had not gone as well as he'd planned. Who could have predicted though that there would be a white magician at the G8 summit. Well, it did not matter too much. He had killed all the rest of the world leaders, and he was sure that that would be impressive enough for his father. It was a pity though that this particular year had not been one in which George Bush had been President, he would have liked to kill him. It was all too likely that he would be elected again in lieu of this. Ah well, you couldn't have everything.

"That was certainly something," Kroenen said to his son. "Pity about that white magician. Don't worry though, I'm sure I can think up some suitable way of…punishing him. I think you most definitely deserve this." He held up the Iron Cross. "Wear it with pride; you've earned it."

_Hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will be how Karl gets out of the mess he's in in the prison, and then I'll tell you whaat happened to Laura. But first, please review!_


	10. The Other

The Other

Thanks for the reviews everyone! Tomas' secret will be revealed, but not for a while yet I'm afraid.

_There was a sharp sound of gun fire and a sudden agony. He looked down and saw blood. His blood. Someone had…shot him. But how? There was no one else there except his father. He collapsed to his knees trying to slow the warm blood gushing past his fingers. From the corner of his eye he saw his father confronting someone. A man. Who? Little blue sparks of magic were gathering at the blood. And then, they seemed to sense him, and they came…inside him! Pain flooded through him and a scream was ripped out of his throat. There was a strange sensation buried under the pain and he felt as though he was being ripped in two. Blackness took him for a moment…_

_And then he was awake again, but it felt as if someone else was sharing his body with him. Someone dark, and deadly, and…psychopathic. He was aware that he was on his feet again and walking unsteadily towards the man who had shot him. He managed to wonder how on earth he was doing this. The magic, he thought, it's done something to me. _

_The person that was him and yet not him was speaking now…no, growling almost._

"_Why did you come here? Why did you do this?" He held up a bloody hand. _

"_I…I…I was looking for Laura…" the man spluttered. _

_Laura! That Jew he had once called a friend! The strange thing that was in control was a sea of hate and rage, but Karl couldn't seem to find himself hating that Jew. I'm a Nazi though. Why don't I care?_

"_Laura is dead! We killed her," the other him said. It was lying. She was upstairs, waiting for his father to return, to inflict more pain upon her. That thought seemed to be slightly disturbing for some reason._

"_No!" the man cried. "No! My daughter can't be dead!"_

"_Another Jew!" the other him spat. "I've had enough of you and your kind!"_

_It/he reached into a pocket and put on the metal talons he had been carrying to use in the ceremony later. Then it/he lashed out and suddenly a fountain of blood sprayed up into his face. The other him liked their lips and then buried their face in the red torrent, drinking deep of the salty flood. Karl felt sick. The Other though, was enjoying it. What is this thing? He wailed to himself. Get it out of my head! _

_They turned to face their father, swaying slightly on their feet._

"_Well…" Kroenen said. "This **is** interesting…" _

The memory began to fade.

* * *

Kroenen's mind was a tumbling mass of confused thoughts and drug-induced madness. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer, soon he would tell everything, unless…His mind rebelled at the mere thought; he wanted to be in control; no telling what would happen if he let The Other take over. It was psychotic, bloodthirsty. But it looked as if it could be his only hope. He couldn't rely on Sheila and Felix; it would be almost impossible for them to find him. He should never have stopped off on his way home to eliminate that 'wolf.

He made his decision, and surrendered to the darkness. His thoughts cleared and melted into white-hot purity of purpose as The Other awakened. The strength of Ancient times began to flow through him. He exulted in the feeling, and a brutal grin began to spread across face. With an easy shrug he snapped the handcuffs holding him and stood up.

* * *

Mary Crimsonne looked up in surprise at Kroenen's sudden movement. She gasped when she saw the broken links of the cuffs and the expression on his face. He casually reached over and picked up his mask from where she had been examining it, and clipped it on. She leapt up and pulled out her revolver. He seemed not to notice, and reached for his baton swords.

"Stop!" she shouted at the Nazi, training the gun on him.

He paid her no attention as his fingers closed around the hilts of the weapons.

Almost panicking, Mary squeezed the trigger. Before she could blink the blades were up and the bullets ricocheted off, one hitting her in the arm. She dropped the gun.

Kroenen stood looking at her. She knew she was moments from death.

* * *

Joe writhed as the dark creature Kroenen had called The Other stood poised to kill the Sergeant. Its dark thoughts were filled with blood and death. Then a soft cool feeling swept across him. There was something outside his cell.

Footsteps echoed in the passage. Rochmann looked up, his pain gone, the myriad thoughts on longer assailing him.

"Who…who is there?"

Instead of words a calm feeling entered his mind. _A friend,_ it said, _just a_ _friend_.

He got up and went to stand by the thick metal door and peered through the barred opening.

At first he couldn't see anything, but then a figure came into view. He was Chinese, with long black hair slicked up in a mohawk. His skin had a faint blue tinge and his eyes had a faint green glow.

_I'm here to get you out_, he thought-said.

_Why? _

_Because you're like me. And you tried to help Kroenen; he is one of us too. _

Joe was astonished. The Chinese man smiled. He produced a key with a flourish, unlocked the door and pulled it open. Rochmann stepped out. Now he could get a better look at his rescuer. He was wearing a costume like a ninja's but with a long leather trench coat similar to Kroenen's over the top. The name 'Empaths' was emblazoned in flowing script on a pocket. He had several ear piercings and there was a slim gold chain around his neck.

_Come this way, _he thought-said gesturing for Joe to follow him.

They hurried through the narrow passages in this lowest part of the prison, heading for the dark presence of The Other.

* * *

The tip of the baton sword snaked out towards Mary's throat, but seconds before it could slice across the jugular vein, something caught Kroenen's attention. His head turned towards the door, and then he was gone. Crimsonne felt weak suddenly, and was conscious of something red and warm running down her neck. She slowly raised her hand to her throat and felt a gaping wound. He had cut her throat so quickly she had barely noticed. Darkness began to swirl around her and she fell to the floor. She could see nothing except some sort of red light ahead of her. She thought she could hear screams.

* * *

The two Empaths came upon Kroenen suddenly, as they turned a corner. They skidded to a stop and the three faced off.

_The Other is in control, _The Chinese thought-said, _You must help me get Karl back in his right mind._

_How?_

The Chinese reached out with his mind and suddenly Joe knew exactly what to do.

Their minds joined and slid into the mind of The Other. It tried to drive them out with its own dark thoughts of blood and death, but combined the two were too strong. The creature howled in frustration as they began to drive it back, allowing Karl to resurface from his dark prison. As The Other was locked back under mental blocks, Karl's mind joined theirs, putting the finishing touches on the walls that would keep The Other in.

The two Empaths withdrew exhausted.

_Thank you. _came the mental voice of Karl.

_It's nothing, _the Chinese thought-said, _but let's hurry. The guards are bound to notice something's wrong soon and I can only distract them so much._

Karl nodded.

"Where do we go now?" Joe asked.

_Back home, _thought-said the Chinese.

"But where is that?"

"Area 51," Karl said, with a certain satisfaction.

"I thought that was just a myth."

"No, it's real all right."

* * *

The Chinese man drove them there in his jeep, a Range Rover.

"You know, I never realised," Joe said, "but I never asked your name."

_I'm Hai-Tsan. _

Joe nodded, and for a while there was silence. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "What's it like, being a Nazi in America?"

"Sometimes it reminds me a bit of Nazi Germany itself," Karl said, amused, "Especially since that act Bush passed against terrorism. You'd be surprised how much control the government has over people's everyday lives."

Joe couldn't think of anything to say to this, but it remained in his mind for the rest of the trip.

It took them the best part of a day to reach Area 51. It was a low concrete building; most of which he had been told was underground. They got out and made their way over the shifting sand to the door. Hai-Tsan pulled out a small pass-card, which he swiped through a slot.

"Welcome to Area 51," Karl said.

They stepped through the doors into a long hall, the walls painted a creamy white, the floor tiled in obsidian. There was a desk at the far end, with a high backed chair behind it which was turned away from them. Karl strode up to the desk and cleared his throat.

The chair swung around suddenly the muzzle of a huge gun was inches from Karl's mask. Holding it was a creature with brick-red skin, a tail, and two strange stumps on the top of his head.

"Hellboy!" the Nazi hissed.

"I've been waiting for you," the daemon replied.

Cliffhanger! Review people, reviewwwwwwwwww!


	11. Plots and changes

Plots and Changes

Back to the past... hehehe.

Laura crouched on the floor of her cell, feeling the ache from Kroenen's latest experiment deep in her flesh. Her fingers strayed to the sharp edges of the metal jutting from her ribs, her mind shying away from the agonising memories they evoked. She sighed, her chest tight, and dropped her hand to the cool stone floor. A tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto the slabs.

Laura's life had been a living hell ever since that fateful day when Karl had betrayed her and brought her here. She had become just another thing for his father to play with, to alter in any way he chose. Sometimes these changes worked, sometimes they did not, but so far none had malfunctioned badly enough to kill her. Occasionally she wished that this wasn't so; that she would at last gain the peaceful rest that would come with death's dark embrace, but still…

Laura's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the thick iron door swinging open. She turned swiftly; fear showing in her eyes, still crouched like a cornered animal. The Aryan woman called Ilsa was standing in the doorway.

"_Komm_," she ordered, beckoning for Laura to follow her.

"Yes mistress," Laura replied, hating herself even as she uttered the words. Once she had refused to degrade herself like this, but now she thought that she could not bear the extra pain that that would bring.

She followed Ilsa to Kroenen's laboratory, dread growing, a beast scratching in her belly. Nothing good ever came from that place.

When they entered, Karl's father was standing in the deep shadows next to one of his cold marble slabs. She knew they were cold from personal experience; she had found herself stretched out on them many times. There was a corpse lying on it, but Laura paid it no heed. Bodies were a common sight around here.

For a moment Kroenen did not speak. "I have bad news," he said lightly.

Laura blinked, slightly surprised.

Kroenen tapped the corpse on its chest. "Look familiar?" he asked.

She examined it more closely, and gasped as she recognised her father. She ran to him and fell to her knees beside the table, reaching up to touch his cold pallid skin. It seemed impossible that he could be here, that he could be dead.

Kroenen's shadow seemed to loom over her although he never moved. His voice reached her as though through a thick fog.

"He was lurking around in our basement, looking for you. He interrupted a very important ritual, but it has to be said it was not totally spoiled. There were…side effects," He paused. "I am extremely displeased with you Laura."

"Me? Why?"

His words sank into her like slabs of lead. "It was because of you that your father was here. _He shot my son_, Laura! It is because of you that your father is dead!"

"Karl was shot?" she asked, trying to keep the hint of vengeful hope out of her voice.

"Yes," Kroenen replied, "but _he_ is not dead, and that is not due to my efforts either. As I said, there were side effects. In fact, it was Karl who took his revenge and killed your father." He turned away. "And of course, it's all…your…fault." His laugh echoed around the high stone walls.

* * *

Karl groaned slightly as he began to wake up. His side where he had been shot felt like it was on fire. He blinked a couple of times and raised his head. He was lying on his stomach in his room, the walls in shadow. There was a tight bandage around his chest serving a dual purpose; to protect the gun wound, and to protect the still-healing cuts where his father had punished him for his failure at Cambridge. That had been delayed only slightly by the killing he had done to earn his Iron Cross, but he had known that it was inevitable. His father did not forgive failure that easily.

Karl sat up, constantly aware of the pain, and ran his fingers through his hair. It was matted with blood, none of it his own, but he couldn't remember how it had gotten there. He knew that it had something to do with his injury and with the magick he and his father had been using in the basement. The whole thing was blurry though. He could recall only snippets of it. He sighed.

Karl felt odd today. Strange. As though he wasn't all there. Something was missing, but he couldn't work out precisely what it was. This was connected too, but how?

There was a knock at the door, and it creaked open. Franz stood there in the doorway.

"I heard about it. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good all things considered. The only thing is, I can't seem to remember much of what happened…after I was shot I mean. I must have blacked out or something."

"Blacked out!" Franz laughed. "Nothing like it! You went berserk, from what Kroenen tells me; strode up to the guy with blood pouring out you and ripped his throat out with your bare hands!"

Karl listened to his account of what had happened with mounting horror, and also a deep realisation that he shouldn't be feeling like this. It wasn't like him. He had been surrounded by death ever since an early age; he was used to it, loved it, gloried in it. And yet… why was he repelled? Why was this not right? This was the strange thing; he was missing his bloodlust.

"Well, I won't bother you any more Karl. You must be tired still." Franz finished. "Mind you," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I did hear that your father is sending Laura to care for you until you're healed. None of us have seen her since you brought her here. I wonder what Kroenen has done to her?" He shrugged. "There must be another reason though. One of us could look after you. After all, Tomas has been up here every day since it happened to see how you were doing."

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Almost a week, but since you were shot, that's not bad." With that, he left, leaving Karl to think about the consequences of all he had done.

* * *

Franz thought about his friend as he walked through the corridors of _Schloss Unterholz_. H found it odd that Karl had remembered nothing about what had happened to him, and his reaction when he had described it disturbed him. It had not been his usual cruel smile and laughter, but a worried and preoccupied expression. Kroenen ought to know about this. He knew more about the arcane effects of magick than any of them.

* * *

Laura opened the door to Karl's room a touch. He was asleep on his stomach, head resting on his arms. She quietly crept into the room and laid her burden down on the carpet by his bed. What now? she wondered. He would not thank her for waking him, but his bandages needed changing, and it would not bode well for her if the wound should become infected. As it turned out, she did not have to decide, for at that moment, Karl's eyelids flickered and he awoke with a yawn.

"Karl," she said, her eyes downcast, not wanting to see the one who was responsible for her daily torture.

"Laura," he replied, his voice strangely flat and choked.

"Your father sent me to change your bandages, and he gave me this cream for your wounds." She held the tub up. It was carved from some creamy white bone-like material.

"I see," Karl said quietly. "He is doing this to torture you even more, because it is my fault that you are here."

His voice seemed to hold a hint of kindness and sorrow in it, even though Laura knew that couldn't be so. She glanced up. He was looking down at her with a strange expression on his face. She distrusted it immediately. She had not forgotten what his father had done to her; how could she! The metal was still there under her skin, and jutting up from it in places. It was cold inside her, and she hated it. She hated Karl as well. He spoke the truth; it was all his fault.

"I know you hate me. I know there is no way you are going to trust me. But let me tell you this. Your father did not die in vain. The magick…has changed me. I am different now! I no longer think that I have it in me to be the merciless killer that my father intends for me to be. I am going to leave, and take you with me."

"You actually expect me to believe that! I don't know the real reason you would want to take me away from here, unless it's some trick to get my hopes up and then crush them again, but it can't be anything good!"

"It is either that or stay here, and there is only pain for you here. Do you really want to stay and be cut up and have things stuck into you by my father? I think not."

Laura thought about it. It was tempting, but she had no reason to believe that Karl would keep his word. He might say he had changed, but she had no proof of that.

"Look," Karl said, exasperated, "I'll show you why I have no wish to stay here. One of the reasons anyway." He reached around and started to unwind the long bandages that covered his chest. Before long Laura could see the pad which they were holding over his gun shot wound. He let the last of them fall into the sheets of his bed and stood up, wincing slightly. He carefully peeled the pad off, letting her see the ghastly hope there, oozing fluids. She also noticed an uncommonly large amount of bruising all over his sides. Surely that could not have all been caused by the bullet could it? Karl saw her confused expression and smiled wanly.

"This isn't the real reason," he said, gesturing at the hole. "It's this." He turned around and Laura gasped. There were deep cuts all over his back, so deep that through some of them, even though they were sewn up, she could see bone. They were long and thin, as though they came from a whip or a long thin knife. There didn't seem to be very much blood which was surprising.

"How…how…?" she stammered, shocked.

"A punishment for failure. Let us say that my father was less than pleased with me after I was kicked out of Cambridge. Do you still doubt that I want to leave?"

Laura shook her head mutely. She couldn't seem to be able to find the breath to speak. Finally she managed to ask weakly, "And…the bruises?"

Karl shuddered. "Ilsa," he hissed. "Not all the blood on those sledgehammers we were using when you first came here was that of our prisoners."

Laura sank to the ground. If this was what Kroenen did to his _son_, who had failed him only slightly, then how much more did he still have in store for her, who had caused Karl to be expelled from Cambridge? She made up her mind instantly.

"I'm coming with you." She said.

Pleeeeeeeeeeease review! Time traveling will make an appearance soon.


	12. The Battle

Hellboy vs. Karl

Sorry I havn't updated for ages, but I've been away on holiday. Anyway, on with the show!

* * *

The daemon that called himself 'Hellboy' was waiting for him when he returned from his mission. How had he got in? Karl wondered, his thoughts coming as fast as lightning. How had the creature known where to find him? Why had it come after him and not his father? But he had no more time for thoughts.

"Now you will die, Nazi scum!" Hellboy said, his finger tightening on the trigger of his massive gun.

Karl was already moving, somersaulting backwards as the bullets whizzed past him. He landed crouched, his hands on the hilts of his baton swords. He drew them with a flourish and assumed a fighting stance. He feared that he might not be able to win this fight; after all, his father hadn't when _he_ had fought the daemon, but it was too late; now Hellboy was up, his gun ready.

* * *

Hai-Tsan and Joe Rochmann stood stunned. For a few moments the room was still. Then the two combatants were moving, Hellboy snapping off shots, Karl moving like a ghost, somehow managing to slip out of the way of those deadly bullets, whilst losing none of his momentum. His twin blades flickered out, but the daemon dodged, the weapons only nicking him slightly. Then he lashed out with his stone right fist. Karl leapt back and swept his razor sharp weapon down towards the barrel of Hellboy's gun. The unworldly metal clipped off the edge off neatly, but the daemon had jerked it back in time for it to avoid more damage.

Joe started to wonder what he could do. He couldn't just leave Karl there to fight this monster alone. Yes, but he is a Nazi, a part of him said. He's an evil, bigoted murderer. You don't owe him anything. Even as he thought this, though, he knew that this didn't matter much to him. Somehow, Karl had managed to win his loyalty without doing anything. How did that happen? He began to reach out with his powers, hoping to cloud the creature's mind, but Hai's mental voice insinuated itself into his mind.

_No_, it said. _You mustn't do anything._

_Why not?_ He replied, angrily.

_Karl must fight this battle for himself._ Although the Chinese Empath's expression was as calm as always, Joe thought he saw a hint of something else in his eyes. Curiosity, perhaps? Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be worry.

* * *

Karl was beginning to sweat, not from exertion, but from fear. How could he hope to defeat Hellboy? His father had taken months to repair himself after his encounter with the daemon, and he was a much better fighter than Karl himself, as he had proved many times whilst training. Once more, he just managed to dodge out of the way of that giant fist, returning the blow. His sword, able to cut through any earthly material, was next to useless on the Key to the Pit. All he was doing was blunting their edges.

The daemon tried to grab one of the baton swords, but Karl lunged with the other and he was forced to leap back. Hellboy snapped his gun open quickly, and Karl realised that he was going to reload it. He couldn't let that happen. The daemon couldn't miss forever.

Karl attacked swiftly, his weapons both lashing out to slice the gun in two. By now, though, several more bullets were in the chambers, and suddenly he was looking down the muzzle. He swept one blade up, managing somehow to get it in the bullets' path in time, making them ricochet upwards and slam into the ceiling. The second blade reached its target, and cut the metal like butter. Hellboy yelped as the sword also cut into his hand, and his blood splattered onto the floor.

"You'll regret that!" he growled, and brought the chunk of useless metal round like a hammer. No, not quite useless, Karl thought as it clanged off his mask, it worked very well as a club. He leapt back, shaking his head to try to get the ringing noise out of his ears. This was not going well.

Hellboy was coming at him again, trying to grab him so that he could set about pounding him, but Karl leapt down and actually managed to slide under the daemon, grabbing his tail and slicing at it. The tip came off, and blood spurted out, staining the clothes the police had given him and he still hadn't had a chance to change out of yet. The noise Hellboy made could only be described as a bellow of anger, and cold dread trickled into Karl's mind. Oh, yeah, great move, he told himself sarcastically, all you've done is make him even madder!

The daemon spun around and punched down with his stone fist. Karl rolled quickly to one side, and felt chips of obsidian erupt up from the floor. A couple of them bounced off his mask. He jumped to his feet and had to dodge Hellboy's fist yet again. Plans flickered like little sparks of electricity through the Nazi's mind as he tried to think of something, anything that would win him this fight. _I suppose…The Other?_ No. It was beginning to feel like the only thing he ever did these days was let that beast out and then try to rein it in again. He had been warned before he left Europe that to do this too often would be to invite it to take him over permanently. Even now he could feel it in the back of his mind, straining like a Sammael scenting blood. There had to be another way.

Suddenly, Karl realised that he had been far too absorbed in his thoughts, and hadn't been concentrating enough on the battle. Hellboy lunged forwards, and grabbed both of his baton swords which he had been holding crossed in front of him. _Oh, SheiBe_…he had time to think before that stone fist was pounding his mask again and again. The metal dented with each blow, and he though he heard a slight crunch. Blood trickled down his cheek. He staggered back, leaving his blades in Hellboy's hand. More blood was pouring from the daemon's flesh where the cruel edges had cut it, but he didn't seem to care. They were both bleeding; Karl felt the blood from the wound near his eye seeping under the rim of his battered mask.

Hellboy threw the baton swords to the floor, where they gouged the stone blocks and came to rest. The daemon grinned in triumph. He knew he was winning.

Karl felt dizzy from the pounding he had just received. He wondered if he had a concussion. He was sure though that after his fight with the werewolf he was far too weak to stand up to much more of that. And now he was aware of more blood trickling down his arm and dripping onto the floor. It seemed that the obsidian chips had cut through his shirt and across his arm without him noticing.

Hellboy strode towards him, his features set, ready it seemed to beat Karl to death if it came to it. The Nazi glanced to where his weapons ay just out of reach, and then back up at the daemon. _If I don't do something, I am going to die_! he thought. With this realisation, new energy seemed to come to him. He leapt and rolled, grabbing the baton swords as he passed, and ending up crouched behind Hellboy, who whirled round, a half growl escaping his lips. After a split second of perfect stillness the two of them leapt at each other. What happened next happened so fast that even Karl afterwards couldn't say just what the daemon did, but it ended up with Karl landing heavily on the floor, Hellboy standing with one baton sword lying at his hoofed feet, and the other one sticking straight through his flesh-and-blood hand. He pulled it out with a sucking noise and the splatter of yet more blood on the floor.

Karl found himself on the great gold symbol in the middle of Area 51's hall. He had never really noticed it before, but now he saw that it was an old ward against daemons, and he almost laughed out loud. This was just perfect! He placed one hand squarely on the sigil in the centre and waited. Hellboy came towards him at a run, and when he was only inches from the edge of the ward, Karl yelled out a word of power. Immediately a nimbus of crackling energy burst into existence around his other hand, and spurted out in a bolt of golden lightning to hit the daemon full in the chest and knock him violently backwards, slamming him against the wall.

After a moment, Karl rose and walked over to where his weapons lay, scooping them up and continuing on to stand by the fallen Hellboy. He bent down and put one of the blades to the daemon's throat…

* * *

Haha! Cliffhanger! Please review! And thank you Psyco Llama and CATWIZARD. 


	13. Strange mission

Strange mission

_Another chapter set in the 'present time' as opposed to karl's past. There will be another one about the past coming next. These next few 'present' chapters are the ones with the large amounts of German (with translations), for no good reason... Anne Frank apperars, and Karl goes time-traveling. Also for no good reason.

* * *

It seems, Hellboy, that this time __I_ have triumphed," Karl said, his blade pressed against the daemon's throat.

"So be it Nazi!" Hellboy growled, "I'm ready to face my death."

Karl laughed, and was about to plunge his baton sword into the red-skinned creature's neck, when he was stopped by a cry from behind him.

"Wait!"

It was Joe Rochmann. Karl did not take his eyes of Hellboy.

"What is it?" he snapped, angry at the interruption.

"You must not kill him. He has important information that we need. It involves you."

"Is that why he was here?"

"No." Hellboy replied instead. "I just came to kill you. But that knowledge was my ticket in here. Felix was easy to deceive."

"_Wunderbar_!" The German exclaimed sarcastically, "Why is it that my whole life is this strange? I just returned from a mission that almost killed me, then I have to fight a crazed daemon, and now this! I know it can't be anything good."

Karl got to his feet, letting Hellboy rise. Joe and the Chinese Empath, Hai-Tsan, came up behind him.

Hellboy snorted. "How exactly do you think you're going to get me to talk?"

Joe and Hai smiled.

"I don't think we've been introduced," Joe began.

_We're Empaths_, Hai added, speaking as always, mind-to-mind.

The daemon started at this, a flicker of doubt and perhaps fear passing across his features.

"It doesn't matter if you want to tell us or not."

_We don't need your consent to read your mind._

Karl could feel the strange presence of the two Empaths' minds as they reached out to find the information they sought.

Behind his mask, the Nazi was smiling.

* * *

Karl and the two Empaths gathered around the table in the lounge as soon as they had finished.

"So what did you find?" Karl asked. Joe and Hai-Tsan had taken a surprisingly long time to extract this mysterious information from deep within Hellboy's brain.

"Well…how can I put this…it's weird," Joe said, shrugging.

"When is it not?" Karl replied.

_It seems that this Hellboy has met someone who is almost certainly the granddaughter of Anne Frank! _

"_Was_! What! I thought she was killed…"

"Not quite. She died of typhus at Bergen-Belsen."

_And that's not all. You're connected to all this somehow. We think…_

"That maybe you're supposed to go back in time and save her," Joe finished.

There was silence for a moment as Karl digested this.

_We know it seems strange…_

"_Das ist eine ungenugende_. That's an understatement "

_…But that's the only_ _possibility_.

"Well I have to do it, don't I. We can't risk the consequences of failure. Although I can't fail, since I've already done whatever it is I'm supposed to do," The Nazi laughed briefly. "How exactly am I supposed to get back though? I don't know of any way to do that."

Well, that wasn't quite true. In fact it was a complete lie, and he knew that Hai-Tsan could sense that, but what he did know, what his father had told him, he was loath to reveal.

"Hellboy knows," Joe said. "But quite how we're going to get him to tell us…we can't read his mind to find out; someone's placed some seriously powerful mental blocks on it."

"The BPRD," Karl told him, his voice cold.

_Abe?_

"Almost certainly." The Nazi sighed. "Maybe I can convince Hellboy."

Hai-Tsan raised a slender eyebrow.

"If I can convince him how risky it'll be…I know he'd be glad to be rid of me."

_As you wish then_.

* * *

"Did Abe tell you where I was?" Karl asked, closing the door behind him. Hellboy was sitting facing the door, his tail curling around the arm of the chair. He had obviously tried to escape; there were pits in the wall and door where he had hit it with his stone fist.

"Why should I talk to you Nazi?" the daemon replied angrily.

Karl sat down opposite him.

"It can't hurt can it? Besides, I know you wouldn't want to take too long getting back to a certain human. If you wait too long, there might not be anyone to go back to."

"You wouldn't!"

"Of course I would," the Nazi replied, amused. Killing came easily to him.

Hellboy looked down, defeated.

"Yes, it was Abe. He found something of yours back in Russia, and we've been looking for you ever since. The President met Abe at one of those parties, and as soon as they shook hands he knew. I came straight here."

How much did they know? Karl wondered. Obviously they didn't know that he was actually the son of the original Kroenen; to use his predecessor's words, 'aclone of myself'. But did they know about…No; he couldn't even allow himself to think about it here. Who knew who might be listening in.

"And what about this time-traveling machine?" The Nazi tried to sound nonchalant, rather unsuccessfully.

"What makes you think I know anything about that?"

Karl tapped the side of his helmet; a gesture meant to symbolize mind reading.

"Even if I could tell you, I wouldn't!"

The Nazi chuckled. "I think you will tell me actually. No matter how long it takes. I know your weakness, and you know I wouldn't think twice about killing her…or worse."

Hellboy growled in frustration. Karl smiled widely behind his mask. He knew that the daemon would have to tell him. He cared about Liz too much. The Nazi had never let emotions get in the way of duty. The original Karl had been even more heartless.

"Fine, fine." Hellboy sighed. "It's at the BPRD."

"That might make things a little difficult."

"You don't stand a chance."

"Don't be so sure. I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve. Where, exactly, is it? I'll need to know if I'm going to go back."

The daemon seemed surprised. "I didn't think you'd actually go."

"Why not? I know better than to mess with the time stream. If I've already done it, I can't not do it."

"It just doesn't seem like something you'd do."

"_Wenn ich wahlen konnte, ich wurde es nicht tun_, Given a choice, I wouldn't. " Karl said, rising.

He glanced behind him as he left the room.

"I'll give you a little time to think…when I get back, I hope you'll have decided which is more important to you. Liz or duty."

* * *

Outside, Karl sighed and leant against the wall, thinking. His normally clear thoughts seemed tangled. The whole business seemed like a paradox; none of it made any sense! He was going back to save a Jew, and despite the fact that he tried not to mind that, he still hated this.

His father had taught him too well.

Anne Frank was a very famous Jew. Rescuing her would be changing history, he thought, but since he had already done it…Could you in fact change history, or was it immutable, unchanging? There seemed to be no answer to his questions.

Karl pushed himself away from the wall and began to walk slowly down the corridor, heading back to his room. He felt strange in the clothes the police had given him, and wanted to get back into his normal attire; the black leather trench coat, the leather SS jacket, black shirt, the sleek navy blue body-suit, and SS jackboots. He might have to buy another cap on eBay; he had lost what could have been his last one in the fight with the were-wolf. He frowned as he remembered the way the beast had changed; the moon had not been full. He would have to speak to President Sheila about that.

* * *

Hellboy sat alone in the interrogation cell, thinking. A deep, cold anger filled his heart; anger at having failed again to kill Kroenen, anger at the Nazi for threatening his beloved Liz, anger that he would now be forced to tell all he knew about the new time traveling technology the BRPD were testing.

He had been surprised to learn from Abe thatKroenen was still alive. The daemon hadn't thought that anyone could have survived that; spikes penetrating right through the Nazi's body, the huge piece of metal crushing him. But when they had returned later, Kroenen was gone, leaving only scraps of cloth, flesh, and the sand that served the assassin for blood.

But now that he thought about it, Kroenen had been hurt in their battle, and though it seemed impossible, Hellboy was sure he had seen blood. Real blood. That couldn't be true though. Kroenen had made a pact with Ogdru Jahad; he was barely human any more. He didn't have blood, because he wasn't really alive.

That wasn't the only thing that was strange about Kroenen. When he had entered Area 51, he had been wearing…well, not anything that the daemon could really imagine him wearing. The clothes hadn't suited him, and had fitted badly. When they fought, the Nazi hadn't seemed as fast or strong as the last time they had encountered one another, as if he had been hurt badly, and had only just recovered. Despite this he looked slightly younger, and less machine-like than before. Could Abe have been wrong? Was this really Kroenen? Hellboy didn't see how it could be anyone else, despite these anomalies.

Kroenen would be back soon, and he had better have something to tell him, or Liz would suffer the consequences...

* * *

Thank you for the reviews Psyco-Llama and Flying Fish15! Glad you liked the battle. Please review everyone!


	14. America

America

_Another chapter refering to Karl's past. Thanks for the reviews Psyc**h**o Llama, and FlyingFish15! Emjoy._

_Isn't paranoia fun..._

* * *

Karl paced up and down in his room, thinking desperately. It was all very well saying that he and Laura would leave Schloss Unterholz, but actually doing it was another matter. He couldn't ask any of the others to help him obviously; they would betray him to his father. And he couldn't leave the country by any conventional means either; Laura's alterations would set off the metal detectors, and the security measures that had been put in after 9/11 and 9/9 would be a major threat. All visitors to America had heir eyes scanned and their fingerprints taken. Apart from the fact that he'd rather not let the government have that information on the two of them, if the Americans knew where they were and who they where, his father could find out too. He couldn't think of any way out.

At that moment came a knock at the door. Karl looked up sharply and stopped his pacing. Absentmindedly he reached out with his mind and felt to see who it was, recognising at once the presence of Franz. Then he realised what he was doing and all at once his probe collapsed.

_I didn't' know I could do that, _he thought, amazed. This was something else to think about.

"Karl," Franz said from outside, "Karl, Kroenen wants to talk to you."

"What about?" he called back.

"I don't know. Come on, you don't want to keep your _Vater_ waiting."

Karl frowned in annoyance. He knew that his father was somewhat psychic, and he hoped that he wouldn't try to read his mind. If he did, he wasn't sure he could conceal what he was planning to do. Perhaps the thing he had done with Franz would be useful, but how could he know? If only Kroenen had waited a little longer for whatever it was he wanted then they could have been away. Well, they might have. He still hadn't thought of anything.

"I'm coming," he told Franz, pulling the door open and stepping out. "Are you sure he didn't say what he wanted?"

"It could be about that business with the guy you killed," his friend suggested. "Perhaps he wants to know how you managed to go psycho with a huge hole in your side and blood pouring out of you. I know I'd like to find out." He gave Karl a curious look.

Karl shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really remember much." This was not entirely true. He was starting to remember certain things about the event, and was wishing he hadn't. _I don't believe I used to _**like**_ that! _He thought to himself as they walked through the corridors.

Franz looked slightly sceptical, but said nothing.

* * *

Kroenen was waiting for them when they entered the laboratory, his back turned. He was working on something, but they couldn't see what it was.

"Finally you arrive," he said quietly without turning around.

"_Jawohl, Vater,_" Karl replied nervously.

Kroenen kept working. After a long pause he said, "What did it feel like? Having that sort of power?" He paused. "I have the feeling…that I've seen something like it before…"

"I don't really…remember much of it at all." _What if he reads my mind? _Karl thought _He'll know I'm lying, and he'll know about everything else too! _

"It is a gift, you know, from the Ogdru Jahad. It surpasses anything I could do with the tools I have here."

Karl thought he could feel a slight pressure on his mind, as though his father was gently trying to slip in without him realising it. He forced it out almost instinctively and imagined a wall around his mind. He felt barriers crash into place, gleaming shields of red light. _Why red? _He wondered.

"Interesting," Kroenen said softly. "It seems you have been changed in more ways than one."

And then Karl heard other thoughts, thoughts that were not his own, almost silent, which sent shivers down his spine.

_What has he got to hide I wonder? Does he fear what the unfettered magick has done to him? Or is it something else? Why can't I look inside him? Whatever power he gained from the spell should not have been enough to block me out completely. Perhaps I have overlooked something. Or perhaps he was even stronger than I had anticipated _**before**_ this happened. That would at least explain how he managed to escape from that white magician. Speaking of which…_

"I think I have a job for you both. You remember of course the white mage George Jarratt? He has fled to America in the vain hope that we will not follow him there. We will. Or at least, you will. I have a special something with which to deal with him, and maybe this would be a good opportunity for you to try out what ever powers you have been given, hmm Karl."

"A...America, _Vater?_" Karl stammered, amazed. Kroenen was giving him a chance to go to that very place he most wanted to get to. Was this a coincidence? Surely if he knew about the plans he and Laura had made, he wouldn't have told him to go? Or perhaps his father was even more cunning than he had dreamed, and wanted to test him to see if he was really going to go through with this? If he did try to escape and Kroenen had anticipated it, he wouldn't get very far…

"Yes. America. Nasty place, but I'm sure you can cope. Take Laura with you. She can be the bait for Jarrett. He will think she is trying to get away from us, and he will offer her shelter. Then you will be able to get close enough to him to kill him. Afterwards, dispose of the Jew. She has begun to bore me."

_Oh, come on! _Karl thought _this is getting ridiculous! There's no way this can be a coincidence. He's practically handing this to me on a plate! He must know, and he wants to trap _**me**_ too. He must have seen into my mind, and then sent me his own thoughts to fool me. What can I do? Is it a test? I've only got one hope; that it's just a test he's sure I'll pass. He only wants to know if I've been changed so much I'll want to get away from him, but he doesn't really expect me to run. If that's true, then he hasn't read my mind, and doesn't know I've heard his thoughts, and if I'm very clever and careful, I might just get away with it._

"Well."

"What is the weapon?" Franz asked.

Kroenen turned around and stepped away from the slab of marble. "This," he said.

Karl blinked. The thing on the slab looked like something out of a nightmare. It was covered with masses of blackish fur matted with blood, and in several places he could see dull metal and exposed muscle. The head of the thing was shaped a bit like a lion, with a mane of lighter fur, pointed ears and a short muzzle from which rows of razor sharp teeth jutted. It was roughly humanoid, but it had a tail, and what looked like bat wings were crumpled beneath it. Its paws and feet had four digits, tipped by claws with a metallic sheen. At the moment it was unconscious, but Karl was willing to bet it hadn't been that way all through whatever Kroenen had done to it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It is based on a creature from mythology called a manticore. I managed to…obtain one, and made a few alterations of my own. I have had it conditioned so that it will be completely obedient to any of us. Since it is naturally magical, any spells the magician tries to use against it will be completely useless. I think it will be a great help to you."

_And of course, _Karl mused, _I'm sure you will have also given it orders to kill me if I try to escape. I doubt I could tackle something like that._

Franz smirked. "I think this is going to be fun."

"Indeed," Kroenen replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Now go and prepare. Karl, tell Laura about this. But not the bit about killing her, obviously."

He turned back to the manticore, and Karl and Franz began to leave. As they did so however, Karl spotted something on a table near the door. It was a small cylinder filled with green goo, and in the centre of it floated a little egg. A Sammael egg. It seemed that not all of them had been destroyed in Russia then. Moving quickly, Karl scooped it up and stuffed it into the pocket of his trench coat. He had a plan that would find it very useful.

* * *

**Psycho Llama: **Oops, sorry about wrong spellings. Yeah, the time traveling confused me too, and I'm the one that wrote it!

**FlyingFish15: **He's not going to kill her. Not even by accident. more coming very soon!


	15. Preparation

Preparation

Sorry its been a while since I updated... I've lost my notes for the next chapter. Well, back to the Anne Frank story arc. : )

* * *

Hai-Tsan and Joe Rochmann stopped Karl outside Hellboy's cell.

_I see you found some of your old clothes_, Hai-Tsan said.

"_Ja,_ and I feel much better now I'm out of those other ones," the Nazi replied.

Joe was amazed. The only other time he had seen Karl in his full apparel had been when he had found the Nazi, after the battle with…he still wasn't sure what. That time the leather had been ripped, and sodden with Karl's own blood, but now it shone in the bright, electric light, menacing and fearsome. He looked like some hellish shade, an impression only reinforced by the Nazi cap, the Iron cross and the Luger at his side with his blades.

Karl saw Joe staring.

"_Was_?"

"That uniform…it's amazing!"

Karl sighed. "_Natur lich_, Naturally " he said, "_Das ist die Punkte_. That's the point "

* * *

Hellboy heard the door open and quickly looked up. Karl came in, flanked by the two Empaths. One of them, the one on the left, had a rather sheepish smile on his face, as though he was slightly regretful that the daemon was incarcerated here. The Chinese on the right was implacable, his face perfectly calm.

"So?" Karl said, a certain satisfaction evident in his voice, though whether due to his change of attire or his assurance that Hellboy would tell him what he needed, the daemon wasn't sure.

"I have no choice, I must tell you."

The left hand Empath glanced at the Nazi. Was he wondering why the daemon had no choice? How much did they know about their friend? They _were _Empaths.

"The machine is in my father's old study." Hellboy glanced up, furious, "the father _you_ killed."

"You were saying," Karl replied calmly.

The daemon glared at him for a moment. "There's always a guard, and Abe's in near there too. There's very little chance you'll even get close enough to use it. But if you do the controls are quite simple."

"What year…1945 isn't it."

_Yes, _Hai replied.

"That year…seems familiar, and not for the obvious reason." Karl shook his head. "I can't remember."

Hellboy looked at him curiously.

"It doesn't matter." The Nazi turned back to the daemon. "Is there anything else we need to know?"

Hellboy thought for a moment then shook his head.

"_Gut._ I would hate to think you were lying to us."

Karl turned on his heel and left.

* * *

Back outside the cell, Karl started to stride off down the corridor. Joe had to run to keep up. Hai-Tsan had no problem, even though he was shorter than the Nazi. He seemed to glide across the floor in an earthly manner.

"_Wir kommen mit dir?" _We're coming with you? Joe asked.

"_Ich brauche Eure Hilfe_. I'll need your help I'm not a powerful enough Empath to take Abe on by myself."

"Who is Abe anyway?"

"He is…unusual. He is a sort of _der Nix, eine Wassermann_, you know…Gills, blue skin, amphibious." Karl shrugged. "But he's a very powerful Empath."

Joe looked slightly worried.

_Do not fear_, Hai told him, _for together we are easily his match_.

They soon arrived at their destination. It was a large underground cave, half-dark, badly lit, but with a dry sandy floor, packed hard like concrete.

Karl walked out to stand half hidden in the shadows, and crouched down. He swept aside a layer of sand to reveal the lid of some sort of box, and grasping the sides tightly heaved it up and out of its resting place. It landed on the sand with a heavy thunk, and the Nazi motioned his companions to approach as he put a key to the lock and flipped the lid open.

"My secret cache. No-one knows about it except me and now you."

Inside was a panoply of weapons, from MK-40s to Walter PPKs; maces and swords, to throwing knives. In addition to his Luger and ever-present baton-swords, Karl picked up a heavy looking pouch, which jingled slightly and clipped it to his belt. A bandoleer of ammo and grenades, and a couple of .44 Magnum Specials completed his arsenal.

"_Selber heilfen_, Help yourselves " he said, gesturing to the open box.

Hai-Tsan stepped up to the box, and took a couple of katanas, which he slung across his back, some throwing stars, and a bandoleer of throwing knives.

Joe was less certain, and looked uneasy to be so close to so much weaponry, but eventually settled on a pair of automatics and a police issue laser.

Karl turned back to the darkness and drew something from his pocket. It resembled a T.V. remote, but smaller, and with less buttons. He tapped two of them and away in the distance they heard a strange sound, similar to a bark, and the revving of an engine. A few seconds passed, and out of the darkness two shapes began to form. As they drew closer Joe could see that one of them was a vehicle, and the other…he shivered. It looked like some sort of animal, but not one that he had ever seen before. It ran with a leaping gait and there seemed to be some sort of tentacles coming out of the back of his head.

It leapt up to Karl and nuzzled him like a dog. The Nazi laughed and petted it, stroking the mass of tentacles that fell like hair around its shoulders.

"_Herunter_ Down _Sammael,_ _herunter der Knabe_, Down boy " he said, as the creature's long tongue snaked out, searching his pockets for food.

The beast sat down on its hindquarters, allowing Joe to see it better. It had large fore-arms and three fingered hands. Its brain was protected by a bony plate at the front of its skull, and its gaping maw was filled with razor-sharp teeth.

The vehicle; an armored four by four with tinted windows parked itself beside the creature and Karl swung the boot open so that Sammael could jump in. He and Hai-Tsan got in the front, leaving Joe to get in the back. He tried to shrink away from Sammael, who stuck his head over the back seat and tried to lick him.

"Give him one of those," Karl told him, pointing over his shoulder at a tightly fastened leather bag attached to the back of his chair. "He'll soon stop bothering you." Joe reached across and unclipped the bag, reaching inside and pulled out 'one of those'. It was a slab of dried meat, what sort he didn't want to guess, and he offered it gingerly to Sammael, who grabbed it and chewed it with apparent delight; settling back down in the boot of the car.

Joe relaxed, relieved.

* * *

Thanks for the review Psycho LLama. Yup, Psychic. :)


	16. Arrival in America

Arrival in America

_And another chapter... I felt a bit silly making the words of the spell up...I also dont know what New York looks like, since I've never been there, I hope I'm not wildly inaccurate in any way..._

* * *

"So you think it's a trap?" Laura asked.

"Of course. _Vater_ is too clever to give us such an opportunity so soon after my…accident." Karl replied.

"What should we do?"

"We'll go ahead with his plan – up to a point. Instead of merely pretending to ask for help from the white magician, you really will, and then, well, perhaps it's best not to talk about it here." Karl looked worried. "It's quite likely that _Vater_ has had the whole castle bugged."

"He's that paranoid?"

"Oh yeah." Karl said with feeling.

"When can we talk then?"

"When we get to America. Franz won't be able to watch us all the time, and I doubt that lion thing can talk. I just wonder… Will this Jarratt help me after what I did at the G8? Certainly, he'll help you, but if I was him, I wouldn't believe that someone like me could change."

"Don't worry. We'll convince him somehow. Now we'd better get ready. We should be going soon."

Karl nodded, and watched as Laura left the room.

* * *

"What _are_ you doing Karl?" Tomas murmured to himself as he listened to their conversation on his computer. "Do you really plan to flee? Why? What do _you _have to fear?" He wondered if he ought to tell Kroenen about this, but immediately decided against it. Kroenen would punish any rebellion against him very harshly, and he didn't want Karl to go through that. Not because of him. No, he would keep this quiet, and leave Kroenen to find out on his own.

* * *

Karl lay flat on his back in the middle of a dim circle of light cast by the flickering flames from thirteen guttering candles. Beside him Franz was crouched, holding a chain in his right hand that led to the collar of the beast his father had made. On the other side of him, Laura was sitting on the floor, fear evident in her wide eyes. She didn't understand the ritual, how could she? She had never seen anything like this before.

"_Ruoreh tafoh w'tranin evaeh de'woll ah b'yht eman, yht mod g'nik…" _From the shadows came Kroenen's harsh voice speaking the words that would summon the power needed to transport them all the way to America.

Karl knew it would take quite a while, so he allowed his mind to wander. He could smell the scent of blood wafting in the air around him, coming from the pentagram and symbols drawn on the cold stone in the crimson fluid, and the odd smell of the candles made from dragon fat. He sighed and closed his eyes. He could feel the magick gathering around his limbs, spread out to touch four of the points of the pentacle, his head resting on the fifth. Somehow the touch of it felt subtly wrong. Another change caused by his split personality.

Suddenly he felt a tug from somewhere around his stomach, and knew that the spell was starting to take effect. Opening his eyes, the world seemed to twist into strange psychedelic shapes and colours, and there was a constant buzzing in his ears. Then everything went black.

When the darkness had cleared, Karl found himself in a basement half filled with wooden crates and a strong smell of preservatives. He stood up and looked around for the others. Laura was sitting on top of one of the boxes, looking faintly amused, whilst Franz was leaning against the wall next to the stairs, still holding the manticore's chain.

"You've been asleep long enough," he said in a tired voice.

"What? But surely it was only a few seconds…"

"Ha! More like half an hour!"

"Oh." He was silent for a moment. "I guess the trip must have disagreed with me…"

"Well anyway, we'd better get going. Our contact wants to meet us near the Twin Towers memorial. If we don't hurry we're going to be late, and then we'll really look clever won't we. So-called 'punctual' Germans."

"What about the manticore? We can't exactly take that out walking the streets of New York."

"Kroenen gave me a concealment charm for it. No-one without magical powers will be able to see it."

"I thought magick wouldn't work on it."

Franz shrugged. "I think this works _with_ its own magick rather than against it… I'm not sure."

"Shall we go then?" Laura asked, pulling her overcoat closer around her to conceal her alterations.

Franz nodded, pulled an amulet from his pocket, slipped it over the creature's head, and began to walk up the stairs.

* * *

They met with less people than they might usually have, it being a rainy night with several good programmes on the TV. Still, the streets were hardly deserted; it was New York after all. Apart from legitimate people going about their own legitimate business, there were also those whose pursuits were a great deal shadier and quite possibly illegal. The four of them were left alone for the most part until they were almost at the memorial.

"Oh great," Franz muttered. "I thought something like this might happen."

The man was gaunt, with sunken cheeks and a complexion that made him look like a skeleton that had been freshly dug up after several years in the ground. Karl ought to know, since he had seen several in his time at Schloss Unterholz. He was bearing a placard with the words 'The end is Nigh' printed upon it. There was a wild look in his eyes, and his hair was long and greasy.

"You are comfortable and complacent in your homes, foolish men of this nation!" he called out at the crowds. "Your eyes are blind to the daemons that threaten this land! All around us the forces of Darkness are gathering and none of you do anything to stop them!"

Suddenly he caught sight of Franz, Karl and Laura, standing uncomfortably some way away, the bulk of the manticore half-concealed behind them.

"You!" he cried, "You are the ones I speak of! You are devils come to lay this nation waste! I foretell great trouble for you and those you come across. You have come to kill, but those you do may not be the ones you intended! Beware the black wolf!" He pointed straight at Karl. "I see his shadow upon you!"

"Let's get out of here," Karl said.

"I agree. He's crazy. There's too many of that sort around here." Franz sighed. They began to inch around the man.

"I see the lion of Scorpio you have in your trail!" the tramp yelled. "It is an abomination, and will be destroyed by another such! The lions of Scorpio and Nurgle can not suffer the other to pass!"

_How did he know about the Sammael?_ Karl thought, his hand dropping to the vial in his pocket. Maybe the man was a bit psychic. No. It was just a coincidence.

"Flee you fools!" the tramp howled after them as they hurried off towards the Memorial. "Fleeeeeeeeeee!"

* * *

"I take it you are Cobra?" The man said behind them.

Franz turned to look at him. "We are Cobra yes," he replied.

The man motioned for them to follow him. "Come with me. The leader is waiting back at headquarters. I have orders to take you to him."

"And have you any idea where the target is?" Franz asked casually.

"I don't know anything about why you're here. I'm just to pick you up."

"Very well. Let's be off."

Following the man at a short distance, they began to make their way back through the streets of New York.

* * *

_More soon I hope. Please review. Please. _


	17. Infiltration

Infiltration

_Yay! Review! Yeah, crazy guys can be fun. So, back to the Anne storyline, and now our team infiltrate the BPRD._

* * *

Many hours later Karl pulled to a stop at the side of the street.

"From here, we go on foot," he said, getting out of the car and opening the boot for Sammael.

The beast leapt out and began sniffing the ground. It raised its head and growled.

Karl pointed at a building half hidden behind high railings. It was at this that Sammael was growling.

"The BPRD," he said quietly.

"How will we get in?"" Joe asked, "That gate seems pretty formidable."

"Most of the complex is underground. When I was last here, I prepared a way in when we left. If we're lucky, it'll still be there."

"And if it's not?"

"Then we'll do this the hard way."

* * *

"_Hier_, Here. " Karl said, stopping by the railings and pointing to the pavement. It seemed no different than any other of the flagstones that made up the surface and Joe regarded it with a skeptical eye.

"Sammael, _auf heben_, lift " the Nazi ordered, and the great beast came forward and sunk its claws into the cracks between the stones. With a creak and the sound of stone on stone, the slab began to move upwards, revealing a gaping hole leading down into the dark depths. Sammael held the flagstone steady as Karl leapt down, quickly followed by Hai-Tsan. Joe hesitated, afraid to jump into the unknown, but Sammael looked at him with something like reproach in its eyes, and a hint of hunger in its posture, so he gulped, and closing his eyes, leapt into the darkness.

Joe didn't fall quite as far as he had expected too, but the impact with the ground still jarred up through his legs painfully. He got to his feet and looked around. Karl and Hai were waiting for him a few feet up the passage. It was fashioned of weathered wood and looked as though it had been neglected for several years, if not longer. Yellow lights flickered, ay times plunging the corridor into half darkness.

The other two were already setting off, and Joe ran to catch up. The Nazi looked back and forth, deep in thought, and Hai had a preoccupied expression which meant that he was mentally scanning the area. Joe would have joined him in doing so, but his grasp on his powers wasn't good enough to do that and keep walking at the same time.

There was a thud from behind, and Joe turned to see Sammael dropping down to land heavily on the floor. The metal beneath its feet dented slightly, and the creature followed its master with slow steps.

* * *

Before long, they discovered the first of the BPRD's agents, a female guard who whipped out two pistols as soon as she saw them, snapping off a few shots. Karl darted out of the way and returned fire with one of his own Magnums, accurately hitting the guard's head, causing it to explode. Joe's stomach turned at the sight. Karl casually walked over to the corpse and picked up the two pistols which he tossed to Joe, who almost dropped them, before stuffing them into the pockets of his coat.

As they turned the next corner, Hai froze, and pushed them back. Moments later a group of agents hurried past, obviously hurrying toward the sound of the gunshots, and Joe let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Sammael crouched beside him, growling softly, wanting to attack.

"_Ausdaur _wait (lit. be steadfast) Sammael," Karl said softly, one arm outstretched as if to hold the creature back.

Before long Sammael got his wish. The BPRD was crawling with guards, and they had to kill several more before they reached Professor Bruttenholm's old office. Hai opened the door a fraction.

"It hasn't changed since we were last here Hai," Karl said in a whisper.

_True. They must have preserved it in homage to the old man_.

"Sammael," Karl told the beast, "_Du musst der Schaffner ausnehmen das Hellboy aus gesprochen hat_. You need to take out that guard Hellboy talked of.> "

_What do the rest of us do? _

"You and I will keep him occupied. Joe, you will have to overload his mind and knock him unconscious."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Think painful thoughts."

They stepped into the room, Sammael leaping straight for a stunned guard, the Empaths flanking Karl, Hai on the right, Joe on the left. A figure appeared in the glass fronted tank before them. It was Abe, surprise and anxiety written on his features. Joe gasped, probably amazed at the fish-man's appearance, thought Karl.

Without waiting for Abe to make the first move, the Nazi opened his mind and pushed out his thoughts. All of his wide experience of death and pain, torture and evil flooded into the mer-man, sending him reeling. Hai joined him, the Chinaman projecting some of his own worst memories; sickness, plague and the bitter pain of scorn.

Joe hesitated, seemingly unsure, but just as Karl was about to say something, did as he'd been told, opening his mind too, and broadcasting his own moments of pain. Karl suppressed the urge to take a quick mental look; as long as they did the job it didn't matter.

Under the combined weight of the Empaths' worst experiences Abe was slowly forced into unconsciousness. He tried to put up a fight, but it was to no avail. Karl felt a sudden release of pressure as the fish-man finally slipped into darkness, unable to face the pain and anguish of their memories.

The Nazi turned from Abe's still form and began to search for the time machine. His eyes swept the room, looking for anything that seemed remotely high tech, but there was nothing. It didn't help that he had no idea what to look for, but anything out of place in the old-fashioned area…

He began to walk round the room, running his hand over the antique bookcases, the valuable ornaments, and the wood-paneled walls letting it come to rest on a photocopier sitting on an oak table near the glass front of Abe's home. Now why would there be a photocopier in this room if it was a homage to Bruttenholm especially one this new and un-used.

"I think we've found our time machine!" he called to the others.

* * *

_:D Hope you enjoyed that. R & R please!_


	18. The Meeting

The Meeting

Another chapter! Sorry it took so long. Back to the past again.

I am having trouble believing that you, Linaerys, like my story. You're like, the Kroenen story guru or something... I think I've died with pleasure.

* * *

Crouched low over the side of the roof, Karl stared through a pair of binoculars at a window high up on the side of the next building. Within, a dim form could just be made out, pacing back and forth with its head bowed. Karl raised the radio/walkie-talkie to his mouth and spoke into it.

"He's still there. Are you ready yet Laura? He doesn't look like he's about to go anywhere, but time is still short."

"I'm in position," came the answer. "I hope I can do this."

"We're counting on you," Karl told her. They both knew he meant that in more ways than one. She had to convince the white mage to help both her and Karl, without alerting Franz to their plan; no easy task.

"Alright," she said at last. "I'm going in."

Karl transferred his gaze to her, as she appeared around the street corner far below, her long coat pulled tight around her, looking somehow smaller in the rain. She stepped up onto the steps leading to the door and pressed a button on the intercom. Through the tiny concealed microphone she had hidden on her, Karl could hear every word.

"Excuse me, but I'm looking for Mr. Jarratt. I was told he could help me."

"You're speaking to him," a voice replied, sounding weary and harried. "What was it you wanted?"

"It is a matter of utmost secrecy. I fear to speak about it aloud. You can never tell what dark forces might be listening…"

"And why should I trust you?"

"Because, sir, I am trying to escape from the same people that you are; what remains of the Thule Society, and especially that monster Karl Kroenen."

There was an intake of breath from the other. "You had better come up. But I warn you, I am not without defences if you prove to be some sort of spy or trap."

"Thank you sir. You don't know how much this means to me; what they've done to me…"

"Hurry. The door is not locked. I have no doubt that Kroenen will be searching for you through magical means."

Laura quickly opened the door and slipped inside, concealing herself from view. Karl let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. The first hurdle was overcome, and now came the second, putting their case to Jarratt.

From the microphone came loud footfalls as Laura climbed the stairs in the building. Soon these stopped, and the sound of an opening door could be heard. More foot steps; Laura entered, and went into the living room, her silhouette becoming visible in the window.

"Tell me miss, what do you know of the Thule Society and Karl Kroenen?" Jarratt said.

"Once I was a friend of his son, someone I believe you have met, if what I overheard was true."

An intake of breath from Jarratt; "Yes, I've met him, and he nearly killed me then. And you say you were…his friend? How?"

"He came to Cambridge University, to study Medicine. I didn't know who he was, or I never would have associated with him. But then…I found out that he was a Nazi, and he didn't want anyone else to know, I suppose in case others like yourself heard, so he and his…allies, brothers, friends…I don't really know what relation they were to him…kidnapped me, and took me to Him." Laura's silhouette shivered.

"And then?"

"He…did things to me…experimented on me. Things like this…" She pulled open her coat, showing Jarratt the metal spikes protruding from her ribs and the scars from the many cuts Kroenen had made.

Karl winced to himself as he pictured what his father had done to Laura. Back when he had been one person, he wouldn't have cared, but everything was different now. Sometimes he still wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

Jarratt seemed speechless. "By the Seven Circles…" he murmured finally. "I see now why you have come. But are you so sure that I can help you to escape? And how did you get this far any way?"

"You are my only hope. I do not know any other white magician. Anyway, America is the only place I would be safe from Him." She paused a moment. "I got here by stealing a book of magick from the library at the place I was held. It had simple spells in it, including one of transportation. I readied it in secret, slowly and carefully, until the time was right."

"Well, there's no way back now. But this is too big for me to handle by myself. I'll have to call the Council. Ultimately, it's their decision."

"How soon can you arrange it?"

"I'll get in touch with them right now. I think with such news as this the Council should assemble within a couple of days."

"So long? Where am I to go in the meantime?"

"I would be happy for you to stay here for a little while. There are charms on this place that should help shield you from Kroenen's search."

"Thank you," Laura said, relief evident in her tone. "Thank you."

* * *

"How much of that do you think was an act, and how much real?" Franz asked casually.

Karl looked up. "Hmmm? Oh, I should think equal amounts of both. She won't try anything though. Father has broken her. She wouldn't dare."

"So you say. So you say."

"And why should it not be so? Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I trust you Karl. I've known you since we were tiny. It is Laura that I don't trust."

"Well I don't think you have much to worry about. Everything is going to plan."

* * *

"Come on."

Laura was wakened by George Jarratt's urgent voice. "What?" she asked sleepily.

"It's time. The Council are waiting for us. They're quite nearby, and we have to walk. We need to go."

"Ok." Laura slipped quietly off the sofa, changing quickly into her clothes. "How far is it?"

"A couple of blocks. Don't worry; it's the middle of the night. There shouldn't be anyone around."

Laura nodded, and they left. Outside it was raining again, a steady drizzle that splashed into growing puddles and soaked their hair. George and Laura strode through the almost deserted streets, hunched close to one another as if for protection.

Before long, they had reached their objective, a small skyscraper purporting to be the offices of a chemical manufacturer. They got inside quickly, thankful to be out of the constant rain, and made their way over to the elevator.

"Don't worry," came a crackly voice in Laura's ear. "We're waiting outside in case anything goes wrong. They might try to give you a mind scan, but Kroenen wove protections into your clothes before we left. They'll only see what you want them to see."

"Okay," Laura said very quietly, "But what if they don't work?"

"Then we're in trouble. Wait…there seems to be some interference…" Laura heard Franz hit the transmitter and swear loudly. "Damn thing…we….goin…get…fix…" The sentence was almost illegible, obscured by static. "Shi….pathetic Americ….nology…You…..on….own…aura…"

Laura tried to hear anything else over the static, but there was nothing.

Finally, the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open soundlessly. They stepped out into a corridor decorated with thick tapestries and weathered stone statues of saints with bowed heads and hands clasped in prayer. At the far end was a simple oak door, carved with some strange symbol at its centre. Just looking at it made Laura feel better. She supposed in this way it was the opposite of some dark designs that had made her feel terrified and intimidated when she saw them in Schloss Unterholz.

The two of them walked slowly up the corridor and stopped in front of the thick wooden portal. George rapped on it. A sepulchral voice spoke from the other side.

"Who dost wisheth to enter herein? Who dost wisheth to trespass inside these sacred chambers? Speak, O thou who wishest entry, speak the words passed down to this brethren from our ancestors and prove thy own knowledge."

"It is I, Doorkeeper, George Jarratt of the Brotherhood of Ynyr, called here on a mission of great import by the Masters of our craft. By the cursed spirits of Orcus and by the Djinn and by the Twelve Signs of the sweeping stars I bid you let me enter."

"Very well Adept, enter, but bid in mind that he whosoever bringeth an enemy into our midst will be consigned to the most unholy and desecrated place upon God's Earth, and there he will be rent by the teeth of the wild beasts until the dying of all ages."

"So you always tell me Abelard. You know I would do no such thing of my own free will."

"Perhaps, Jarratt, perhaps."

The oak door swung open, revealing a scowling man in his late thirties with untidy blond-brown hair and eyes of a curious shade of grey. "Come on then," he said, all archaic language abandoned for the moment. "The Grand Master is waiting for you."

"**_The_** Grand Master?" George asked, raising an eyebrow. "Lord Sloane Wyatt is here?"

"He is indeed. Quite why I don't know," Abelard replied grumpily. "The girl doesn't look that important."

"That only shows how little you know," came a fiery voice from inside. A man came into view. He was tall and slender with piercing green eyes and a shock of long red hair.

"Ah, Selas my friend!" George exclaimed happily. "I wondered whether you would be here."

"Of course I am! This is far too important for me to stay away, as Abelard would do well to recognise. The return of the Thule Society would be a huge blow to all we have accomplished since the last World War! This girl, what did you say her name was? Laura? could prove vital to us."

George nodded in agreement as he and Laura stepped inside. The door swung shut behind them. Laura glanced around. The room was very large and spacious, but dimly lit by huge candles in brackets on the walls, fixed in chandeliers and stuck on spiked holders on the silvery marble floor. There were tables all around the walls, and many figures sat behind them, their features hidden by their long robes in several colours. There was a group with deep crimson robes, another with turquoise, some with a dusky green and still others with robes of a light airy purple. There were also people who wore pure white robes, and some, a very few, whose robes were the same silvery colour as the floor and walls, a colour which seemed to hold all the other colours within their depths, even, when the candle light lit them in a certain way, a deep midnight black. The man George had called Selas, who was wearing red, went and joined his cohorts. George strode confidently into the centre of the chamber. Laura followed, looking back to see that Abelard was still standing by the door, wearing a sort of brownish robe embroidered with a strange golden design all down the sleeves.

When he had bowed to all the groups around the room George turned to face one particular figure who was seated in a high, carved chair. He was wearing the silvery robes, though Laura noticed that his were lighter than those of his compatriots, and seemed to have almost no black in them at all. There were other colours though; all the colours of the rainbow, Laura thought.

"Grand Master," George said, bowing very deeply to the man.

"Very good, my dear Adept," the Grand Master replied jovially standing up. "You are here. Even a little early, I think."

"I hurried sir. That is why I regretfully did not bring my robes."

"No matter. Let the girl come forward. I wish to talk to her."

George motioned Laura forward, falling back to stand just behind her shoulder. "Don't worry," he said quietly in her ear.

"So Laura, you have come to us in order to escape those who tormented you. And you have put a name to the chief of those. The infamous Karl Kroenen, who we all had thought dead."

There were murmurings from around the hall, from those who presumably had not heard this news yet.

"Yes sir," Laura replied.

"This is, of course, understandable. But I do wonder how you came to know of us, and how you managed to get here in the first place."

Laura shifted uneasily. She wanted to tell him the truth, indeed, it was essential for their plan, but to do it in front of all these people! "Well sir, I'm sure you know what I have already told Mr. Jarratt, about how I overheard Kroenen talking to his son after…" She was interrupted by Selas springing to his feet, his eyes wide.

"The Black Assassin has a son!" he almost yelped. "How can this be? I had heard…the rumours said…who would consent to do anything of the sort with…**_him_**!"

One of the silver robes looked at him. "There are those," she said calmly, "who would do it with pleasure. You ought to know this. Plenty of Neo-Nazis out there for him to choose from. Perhaps even Ilsa, though I doubt he would have dared touch Rasputin's concubine."

Selas sat down again. He was pale though, and did not look at all pleased. "But are you even sure he _can_?" he said, almost pleading.

"There are other ways," a blue robe said. "Cloning, for instance. It is a science that would appeal to one such as him, though he would pervert it until it became barely a science at all."

"I have heard of black magick which would do it," put in a green robe.

"Enough," the Grand Master said calmly. "That issue, while important is not currently under discussion. There will be time for that later. I suspect that you will soon have plenty of opportunities to argue." He gave Laura a piercing glance from under his hood. She shivered slightly. Did he already know?

"You were saying?" he asked her.

"I heard Kroenen talking to his son after he had killed the world leaders at the G8. Mr Jarratt had been there, and had tried to stop him."

A susurrus of murmurs swept around the room again.

"I knew that I might be able to get help from him. It was my only hope. I crept into Kroenen's personal library one night and stole a book of transportation spells. It was one of those which I used to come to America."

"Really?"

"Respectfully master, are you going to question me in front of all these others? Could one not be a traitor?"

"I doubt it. It matters not whether they hear. They will abide by my decision. You know, I find it rather amusing," here he smiled, "that he really thought his protections would stand against our combined strength. We do not even have to be all concentrating together to use it. The moment you entered here, those spells were swept away. So why not tell the others the whole story hmmm?"

Laura trembled in the gaze of so many magicians and mages, all looking at her with various emotions in their faces. She could feel George's betrayed look without even having to turn around, and shame burned on her cheeks.

"Very well," she said quietly. "Very well. I did not overhear Kroenen, nor did I steal anything from him. What I was telling you…was entirely his idea."

Shocked noises emanated from under the hoods now, and rebellious murmurs.

"Let her continue" the Grand Master said mildly.

"But I always intended to tell the truth, though not in front of you all. I truly do want to get away, but I cannot do it on my own. It was not even my idea in the first place. It was Karl's."

"Karl?" Came Selas' puzzled voice.

"Karl Junior. Kroenen's son."

She heard Jarratt gasp behind her. She had expected his reaction; after all, Karl had nearly killed him at the G8 when he had tried to protect his President. It still hurt her though that she had been forced to lie to him at all.

"What do you mean?" he asked her, his tone plainly injured.

"The thing is…" she sighed. "Since you last met him Mr. Jarratt, many things have changed. He tells me that **_he_** has changed, and I see no reason to doubt him. It started when he and his father were doing some sort of ritual, when he was interrupted by…" her voice faltered. "…a man. He had a gun, and he shot Karl. The magick kept him alive though, and seemed to give him extra strength. He killed…the man. Then he collapsed from blood loss. When he woke up again, he found that the unfettered magick had split him into two personalities. The dominant one is no longer bloodthirsty and evil, but the hidden one, which he tells me he has taken to calling 'The Other'… well, I'm sure you can guess what **_it_** must be like."

"You have only his word for this though," the Grand Master said calmly. "What makes you trust him so?"

"I'm not sure… I just feel that it's right. Anyway, he wants your protection too, he'll be coming here to meet you, and you can ask him then."

"He's coming… here!" Selas interjected, fear colouring his voice.

"Kroenen's plan was for me to meet with Mr Jarratt and set up a trap for him. We suspect that the whole thing is a test. I was supposed to have a hidden microphone on me, but Karl sabotaged the receiver. Before too long, he'll be coming in, on the pretext of checking if I am all right. I believe that he and Franz brought equipment with them for an emergency such as this. It will give him an excuse to talk to you, to convince you of his case."

"Who is this Franz you speak of?" a languid voice asked from next to the Grand Master. "I appreciate that Lord Wyatt's power allows him to know these things already, but such as myself… we need these to be explained."

"He is a friend… I should say an ex-friend of Karl's. They might be related, I do not know. I never asked."

"Will he come soon, do you suppose?" the Grand Master asked. "I am most curious to discover what he is up too."

"I am already here," a voice spoke out of the shadows, and out stepped Karl, an amused expression on his face at the shocked looks of the magicians. He walked over to stand next to Laura, and turned to face the Grand Master. "I am here and ready to be questioned."

* * *

Pleaseeeeee review:D :D Next chap should be quicker I hope.


	19. Investigating

Investigating

_Please excuse my seeming obsession with writing everything in probably not very good German. I've stopped that since I first wrote this story arc, which was actually quite a while ago. So no more of it. rolls eyes at self_

* * *

Several minutes later, and seven decades earlier, a glowing portal opened in the darkness of the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp, and Karl stepped out of it. He looked around him, a smile beneath his mask. The darkness around him felt comfortable, and there was a smell in the air that seemed right, and just breathing it in made some part of him feel more alive. He straightened his cap and set off into the night.

The problem was how to find Anne Frank. He could go to the administration department, and as likely as not they would give him whatever he asked for, but he felt that it wouldn't be a good idea to let anyone know he was here unless absolutely necessary.

It seemed that he would have to search each hut looking for her, and even then it was unlikely that he would recognize her; she would be much changed from her photograph. This was a concentration camp after all. Karl sighed. It looked like he might be here a while.

* * *

Karl stood at the edge of the _Kommandant's_ quarters, a dark shade in the creeping shadows. He had looked for Anne Frank throughout the whole night, and now, with the revealing light of dawn looming on the horizon, he knew he would have to enter. Anne Frank would be listed here amongst the myriad others destined to die, and he would be able at least to find her. What to do then was a problem. He didn't know when the portal back to his own time would open again, and he had no idea as yet to ensure Anne's survival. In fact, he was loath to even think about it, saving this Jew.

Karl stepped slowly into the circle of light, slipping up silently to the open door and peering in. To his anger the _Kommandant_ of Bergen-Belsen was sitting there at the desk, writing with a pen in an open book. Maybe he **should** just go in and ask where she was…but that could easily turn out badly…

What was he thinking? He was a master assassin, a virtually undefeatable fighter! What was he afraid of!

Karl strode confidently into the hut, the metal heels of his boots clicking on the cold stone floor. The officer at the desk looked up quickly at this disturbance, his face unreadable to anyone who was not at least a slight Empath. But to Karl he was an open book. Irritation at being interrupted warred with relief at getting away from the tedious paperwork.

I never liked it either, he thought wryly, thinking of the long nights spent filling in forms at _SchloB Unterholz_.

"_Was willst du?_ What do you want? the man snapped, "_Wer bist du_? _Ich habe dich nie bevor gesehen_. Who are you? I have never seen you before. "

"_Ich bin Obersturmbahnfuhrer Karl Kroenen.Ich bin nur gerade angekommen. Ich mochte das schriftlich von Juden fur das...Experimenten zu sehen_. I am _Obersturmbahfuhrer_ Karl Kroenen. I have only arrived very recently. I need to have a look at the records for the Jews you have here for my...experiments. "

"_Welcher sort von Experimenten_? What kind of experiments? "

"_Ich mache Nachforschungen uber das Flechtfieber unt anderer Krankheiten. Ich verlange Untertanen_. _Als ich das esgibte der Ausbruch von Flechtfieber gehoren habe, komme ich sofort. __Est is ein perfect Gelegunheit_. I am researching typhus and other diseases. I require subjects. When I heard that there had been an outbreak of typhus here I came at once. It is a perfect opportunity. "

The officer frowned, his hand slipping below the desk. "_Was meinst du der Ausbruch von Flechtfieber? In diesem Augenblick gibt es keine Krankheit in dem Kamp._ What do you mean an outbreak of typhus? At the moment there are no diseases in the camp. "

Karl cursed silently. He must have come back too far. The outbreak that Anne Frank died of had not yet happened.

"_Ah_…_vielleicht bin ich falsch_, Ah...perhaps I was mistaken, " he stammered anxiously.

"_Nein_, No, " the other said slowly,"_Ich denke das du ein verschiedene Tagesordnung hast_. _Sind_ _Sie wirklich wer Sie zu sein behaupten ich mich wurdere,_ _Herr Kroenen_? I think you have a different agenda. Are you really who you claim to be I wonder, Herr Kroenen? "

His hand came up holding a Luger, and Karl leapt out of the way as the gun rang out. From beneath his trench coat he pulled out a couple of small spheres and threw them at the officer. As they hit they spewed a dark grey and green gas that swirled around the room. The _Kommandant_ coughed several times and slumped to the ground, knocked out by the noxious chemical that continued to fill the room. Karl rose to his feet, shrouded in the smog, his mask filtering the smoke out of the air he was breathing. The dark circles of glass that served as the eyes of the mask glinted slightly as he examined the fallen body. No point in killing the man, as much as certain parts of him would like to; the _Kommandant_ would be missed; else he would have pulled something more deadly from beneath his coat.

* * *

With the _Kommandant_ out of his way there was no-one to stop Karl from searching every single record of every single prisoner in the concentration camp. He stopped to take a cursory glance at the documents on the desk before continuing on into the long dark room that held file after file packed onto hundreds of shelves. The Nazi began to pace slowly through the rows, tapping each of the files as he went. He pulled one out at random and began to read. It was a list of possessions taken from Jews who had been killed here. It was fascinating, but not what he wanted. Karl surveyed the folders with a sigh. He might be here a while.

* * *

Rows of skeleton thin prisoners stood in lines, waiting for the thin broth and maggot ridden bread that was their only sustenance. Karl watched them in the heat of the mid day sun from his hiding place in the guard's barracks. The S.S. Death's Head group who slept here were gone, overseeing the workers and those destined for death.

The _Kommandant_ had regained consciousness and now remembered nothing; a useful side effect of the chemical agent that had been contained in the small spheres. He was strutting around outside now, shouting orders in angry German.

Anne Frank was standing in the line, not as thin as the others, but clothed in the same grayish rags. As soon as typhus broke and out and the first ravages of the disease touched her, he would make his move. Until then, he would watch and wait, seeing the concentration camps first hand.

* * *

_I hope I get all the details right about Bergan Belsen. It should be OK, but if anyone spots anything, please to come and yell at me._

_Please review!_


	20. Proof

Proof

_Thanks again Psycho-Llama, for your reviews:D In this chapter, Karl is interrogated, a traitor is killed, and Jarratt becomes very surprised._

_Opinions - should I make a comic of these?_

* * *

Despite the shocked looks on he faces of the other magicians, the Grand master seemed perfectly calm.

"I thought I felt a presence here," he said, "but I confess, you have baffled me. How did you get past our defences, and our doorkeeper?"

Abelard looked embarrassed, and angry. "He didn't sneak past me! I would have felt it!"

"There are ways known only to those who have dealt with the dark powers," Karl said gravely. "I know that it is not to my credit that I have used such as these, but it was the only way." He bowed deeply. "So now I have come before you to beg that you help me and my associate here. We are at your mercy."

"So." The Grand Master seemed amused. "You are asking us for help. As I was telling your friend here, you have not shown us any proof that we can trust you."

"True, but I hope to do so now. I know that there are those among you who are powerful telepaths or Empaths. I am willing to submit to a full scan of my mind. Then you will know that all I speak here is the truth."

The Grand Master raised his eyebrows. "This does change things," he said solemnly. "This is no small thing. You are aware of the risks, of course."

"Of course."

"I shall choose the best among us for a task such as this. If you will excuse me a moment…" The Grand Master let his carved chair and began to walk around the outside of the tables, stopping occasionally to murmur things into the ears of certain magicians. When he had finished he and his chosen ones gathered before Karl and the others. They were just about to begin when the same languid voice spoke from beside the Grand Master's chair.

"A favour, perhaps, Lord Wyatt. I have some experience with reading the mind of dangerous ones such as Karl Jr. here. Would you do the honour of letting me lead the ritual?"

The Grand Master glanced over at the figure. "Experience you may have Merari, but your intentions I am not so sure of."

"Surely you do not believe those rumours, Lord Wyatt? My intentions are purely to serve."

"Serve yourself, I shouldn't wonder," Selas muttered. He was one of those who had been chosen.

"Now Selas," Merari chided, turning to him, but her tone carried a hint of something menacing in it now. "Have I not always helped you? Do not say such things about me."

"My answer remains the same." The Grand Master said. "I shall lead, and no other. Everything must go perfectly."

"As you wish." Merari replied sweetly, from what could be seen of her face she did not look pleased.

The assembled magicians began their spell, their combined voices chiming together as they crafted the delicate charm. Had they all been Empaths this would not have been needed, but only a small number of them had that power.

Karl felt the combined minds of the white magicians slip like liquid ice into him, and he hissed in pain despite himself. It was a very strange feeling, as though he was being raked over with thin spirals of fire and he saw moments from his past flashing in front of his eyes, all feeling as real as when they had first happened. What pain there had been was gone now, but he felt detached from himself, as though he was not quite all there. In the back of his mind, he began to feel something stirring, a beast on a thin chain, only waiting for provocation to rouse its fury. He began to feel a little apprehensive. What if it broke free and took control of him as it had done that night in the basement when it had been created.

Suddenly Karl felt another presence, separate from the magicians, creeping into his open mind like a thief. It began to dig deep into his memories, looking for dark and sinister things he had known in his time with his father. He tried to stop it, but he was too weak now, seeming almost to float free from himself. And then the other presence came upon The Other.

With a dark howl the other side of his personality burst forth from him like a daemon rising from the pit. Whereas before it had been a thing merely within himself, in an atmosphere so saturated with centuries of magickal use, stretching back to before there had ever been a building on that spot, it appeared as a fiery creature standing tall and terrible in mid air.

To George Jarratt, standing behind Laura, the sight was a truly terrifying one. Karl seemed to be possessed by a force greater than himself, his eyes blazing with wreaths of fire, the thing in the air stretching out from his wide flung hands. He seemed almost to be screaming as if in great pain, but no sound came from his mouth. The fiery beast stretched and yawned as if waking from a long sleep, then turned its fearsome gaze on Merari. She yelped, awakening from the trance she had been in, her eyes wide. The creature leapt at her, leaving a contrail of flames behind it.

In front of Jarratt, Laura started forward, crying out in anguish, "Stop! Stop, you foul creature!" It paid her no attention, but Laura's cry did seem to have done some good, for Karl seemed to have come back into himself, gazing at the thing from inside him in obvious horror. It was too late for him to do anything though. The beast was already upon Merari, obscuring her in its fiery grasp, her scrams almost drowned out by the crackling flames. Within seconds the creature had consumed her, leaving only a heap of blackened bones slumped in her chair. All around the table was burned black and the magicians had scattered, trying to put as much distance between them and this terrible thing come into their midst as possible.

The Grand Master and the magicians he had chosen were back in their own bodies too by now, and he stepped forward to confront the beast.

"_Urtha ron'tech kakmet i'ypa…_" he began to cry out in some strange ancient language, but the words had no effect on the thing, and he backed away as it turned to face him, a leer on its blazing muzzle. It slowly began to advance upon him and the group of magicians huddling behind him.

"Enough!" The ragged cry burst from Karl's throat and the beast looked around at him. "Enough! Stop this. Come… back… here." He seemed to be struggling to speak, but his eyes were defiant and full of determination. The creature seemed to want to continue its advance but something was holding it back, and as Karl beckoned to it, it was reluctantly dragged backwards until it was in front of Karl again. He looked it squarely in the eye and it began to dissipate into the air, wreaths of flame coming of it in great plumes. Before long, it was gone, and Karl slumped to the ground, the effort of controlling his other side too much for his already weakened mind.

All around the chamber, the magicians stood stock still, still in shock, not quite grasping what had happened. Eventually George Jarratt broke the silence; "What do we do now?"

* * *

_Reviews pleeeeeeeeeeease:D Next chap up soon I hope._


	21. Finding Anne

Finding Anne

_Thanks for the reviews Pscyho-Llama! Back to the Anne arc. (It's confusing, I know, I'm sorry!)_

_This chap is kind of rubbish..._

* * *

It was time, the silken darkness like a shroud over hellish Bergen-Belsen, only broken by the stabbing torchlight of the pacing guards. Karl stalked, almost silent, through the narrow passages between huts to his rendezvous with fate. The night was a good one for his mission, for the camp had a visitor, and the S.S. guards were all distracted by his presence. Karl had not yet had a glimpse of him but knew that he was someone important.

As he rounded the corner he was brought to a halt as he crashed into someone else walking in the darkness. He sat there on the ground, not daring to move, feet away from the other dark figure, keenly aware of his speeding heartbeat and the silence of the night. The man opposite him rose to his feet, and Karl followed, slowly becoming aware of a strange ticking noise like a clock that sounded in time with his own slowing heartbeat. Could it be…?

The dark figure stepped closer, and Karl found himself looking into dark circles of glass that mirrored his own, and a black mask reflecting his mask reflecting that mask, reflecting…

They stood looking at one another for a moment, speechless.

"_Das ist…komisch_, This is…strange, " said Karl.

"_Wer vist du_? Who are you," asked Kroenen, "_Du siehst wie ich aus_. You look just like me, "

"_Es ist schwer zueklaren. Ich dachte nie, das ich du hiersehen wurde. _This is hard to explain. I never thought I would see you here. "

"_Bist du eine zukunftig version von mir._ Are you a future version of myself? "

"_In diese Art zu sprechen_. In a manner of speaking. "

"_Wie du hier erhietten?Sine sie oder sollten ich suggen, Sind ich, auf einer Mission fur der Ogdru Jahad_? How did you get here? Are you on, or should I say, am I, on a mission for the Ogdru Jahad? "

"_Nein_, _keine_ _von dem_. _Ich bin nicht hier im Interesse der alten Gotter, noch ich molte sein._ _Eine reisende Maschine der einfachen Zeit war alle, die ich verwendete._ No, none of that. I'm not here on the behalf of the elder gods, nor do I wish to be. A simple time-traveling machine was all I used. "

"_Aber warun wurden Sie widerstrbend zu dienen der Ogdru Jahad? Fur funfJahre Nanowatt habe ich sie gedient und habe sie nie bedauert._ But why would you be reluctant to serve the Ogdru Jahad? For five years now I have served them, and have never regretted it! _" _

"_Ich bin **nicht** dich,_ I am **not** you _" _he sighed_. "Ich bin dien **Sohn,**_ I am your **son** "

"_Ich habe ein Sohn_? I have a son," Surprise showed in his father's voice, but his expression was hidden behind his mask.

"_Sehe, ich kann nicht bleiben. Ich muss jetzt gehen, fur mein Plan gelangen_. Look, I can't stay. I must go now for my plan to succeed. "

"_Geh dann, aber wissen Sie, daB ich alle Dose tue, am mehr heauszufinden_ Go then, but know that I will do all I can to find out more. "

Karl continued at a run towards the hut where Anne Frank slept.

* * *

Margot tossed and turned, her dreams twisted nightmares, her body fighting a loosing battle against the ravenous disease. Fevered thoughts raced through her head, faster than she could comprehend them; a frantic, gasping red-clawed chase that chewed at her mind.

Her sister, Anne, sitting beside her, though touched by the disease herself, kept constant watch. She was the only protection Margot now had, and neither of them knew what would happen in the morning, whether the Nazis would insist on them both working, whether they would leave them in peace or whether…

Anne looked up fearfully as this thought passed across her mind, as if expecting an S.S. guard to be standing there ready to order them up, but saw nothing but shadows. And then it seemed to her as if in one place the shadows were deeper than they should have been, and that the slight moonlight shimmered off leather.

Then, as her heart began to beat as fast as a horse's galloping hoof beats, that dark shape stepped out of the shadows, resolving itself into the form of a man. She froze, crouched by the uneasy shape of her sister, sure that this German from the night could mean no good.

He said nothing, his face hidden by the shadows cast by the brim of his Nazi cap, merely standing there looking at them, no threat in his stance.

"_Sie ist bis Morgen tot_. She will be dead by morning. " he said, his voice a low rasp.

"_Was meinst du? Sie ist nicht so Krankt, ist sie_? What do you mean? She is not that bad is she? "

"_Sie ist bis Morgen tot wil ich beabsichtige, sie zu shieBen wenn sie nichtst.Wir konnte nicht uns leisten, Zeit auf kranken Juden zu vergeuden. _She will be dead by morning because I intend to shoot her if she is not. We cannot afford to waste time on ill Jews. _"_

Margot choked back a cry, and tears began to fill her eyes.

"_Nein, bitte, mein Herr! Lassen Mich ihren Aufenhalt hier mit sie._ No, please, sir. Let me stay here with her. "

"_Ich denke nacht. Lassen diener schwester heirleiben. _I think not. Leave your sister here. _"_

How did he know that Margot was my sister? She thought to herself.

"_Jetze komme_, Now come, " he said, beckoning to her.

Karl sat alone in the darkness by the bed of his charge. A day had passed since he had taken her from the squalid shed where she had lived amongst the filth, and now she slept soundly. The disease had started to affect her memory now; she was in and out of nightmare sleeps so often she could not tell what was real and what was not. Her sister Margot, whom he had left there, was almost dead, having succumbed to a coma in the early morning.

Anne had had to get worse before she would get better, but now she was away from the disease ridden huts the Jews were kept in she would be fine. Many others were dying now, and many more would continue to die even after the British Army arrived. For them it was too late, but not for Anne Frank. There was one problem though. Kroenen kept hanging around his hiding place, annoyingly tireless and patient, humming German marching songs under his breath. He didn't know about Anne of course, but he surely suspected, and Karl didn't want to face his father's anger.

* * *

_Pleeeeeeeeeease review! I never seem to get any these days. (Apart from yours Psycho-Llama)_

And what would happen when the British came?


	22. Traps

Traps

_Sorry for the looooooooooooong delay. I'm not dead. Finally I've got this up..._

* * *

Karl woke up, his mind still foggy from what had happened earlier. He blinked, suddenly aware that he was lying in a bed that was not his own, and that he did not recognise the room. Then everything came back to him and he groaned.

"Are you hurt?" he heard Laura ask from beside him. He turned to look at her. She was sitting in a wooden chair looking understandably anxious.

"I'm myself again, if that's what you mean," he replied with a wan smile. "I suppose I've ruined any chance I have of convincing these people that I mean well."

A new voice spoke from near him. "On the contrary, young one. I was in your mind for pretty much all that time, and I know that the thing that we saw was the dark side of you, the side that has been suppressed, and I also know that had you not acted as you did we would all likely be dead."

Karl turned to see the Grand master looking at him kindly. "But it killed someone… I remember…screams…and black bones…"

"The Other killed her yes, but she was a traitor. It was she who unleashed it, looking for secrets you might have known about your father's work. I suspect that in its own warped way that side of you was trying to protect you. It was created from magick but without your body to anchor it to this world it would vanish back into the ether and inexistence."

"And the other mages…"

"I have explained to them. They trust me. They might not like it but they have to accept the truth of it."

"So the Grand Master says they will help us," Laura said, happily.

Karl relaxed. Up until then he hadn't realised quite how wound up he had been, but just knowing they wouldn't have to face his father again was a great relief. "What about Franz?" he asked. "How long have I been asleep for?"

"Not all that long," Laura replied. "An hour at most. Franz has been trying to get in touch through your radio, and I told him that you were giving Kroenen's psychic protections a boost, and were far too busy to talk to him. He thinks that the interview with the council severely taxed them but didn't quite manage to break through them."

"That's good." Karl nodded. "He'll believe that. What's the plan now?"

"We are going to go along with your original plan," the Grand Master said serenely. "Franz and the manticore will believe that they are drawing Jarratt into a trap, but in reality the trap will be for them. I believe you have something to cope with the manticore?" He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Oh, yes." Karl fished the small tube out of his deep trench coat pocket. The Sammael egg still floated in the greenish liquid.

"Do you know for certain that you will be able to control it?" the Grand Master asked.

"Father let me read the books Rasputin left with him. I still remember the charm which locks one of the beasts of Nurgle under a mage's control permanently. I only need to perform it once. I thought I would let it out before Franz arrived and do it quickly, so that it would be ready for him."

"A wise choice," the Grand Master told him. "I have read about the Sammael, and I know that they have a particular hatred of Manticores."

"Is it true that Manticores are sometimes called the lions of Scorpio?" Laura asked suddenly.

"It is yes. Why do you ask?"

Laura gave Karl a meaningful look. "We met a man on the way here. He seemed crazy at the time, but I wonder now."

"Hmmm. Perhaps we might have missed a prophet in the bustle of this city, but somehow I think it unlikely. Maybe he was working for one of the government agencies."

"What government agencies?"

"The BPRD is one," Karl told her, "but I don't know of any other."

"There is also Area 51. I suspect you have heard of it."

"A conspiracy theory. And we all know those are just planted to draw attention away from the _real_ secret agencies."

"In this case, that is not true. There really is an Area 51, commanded by an old friend of mine; Felix King. They deal with different areas to the BPRD. They are more concerned with actively paranormal phenomena like ghosts and daemons, whilst Area 51 deal with the sorts of powers that appear in the Human Race, like mind powers and prophecy. And we are concerned with magick, and have no ties with the State."

"When all this is over, where do you suggest we go?" Karl asked. "I don't think it would be a very good idea for me to go to the BPRD. My family has a… history with that of Hellboy."

"And I fear that your presence would cause tension here." The Grand Master sighed. "Area 51 would be best, for they have no preconceptions about you. But I know you might not want to work for the government."

"I'd rather not. But it seems I might not have any other choice. I don't think we would survive on our own."

"What about me?" Laura said.

"I really don't know. It depends whether you want to stay with Karl. But where you and he would be beast situated are, I fear, not the same. You could go to Area 51 if you wanted, I suppose, but I don't think you would be all that comfortable there."

"I suppose you're right." Laura sighed. "I suppose we had to part ways at some point. And it wasn't all that long ago that I hated you Karl."

"That's true." Karl sighed too. "But now we had better plan this ambush. I would rather Franz wasn't hurt. I mean, he has always been my friend. If it is at all possible, I'd like him to still be alive at the end of this. I don't want more death on my hands."

"I'm sure we can find some way," the Grand Master replied. "But we must have plans for anything that might happen. We all know that this is not something that we can allow to go wrong."

* * *

Franz paced up and down impatiently. What was taking them so long? The things Kroenen had told him before he left flashed through his mind.

_I am suspicious now about Karl. The accident may have changed him more than I had planned. We may have to kill him, _he had said.

_And you want me to do this? _Franz had asked.

_You are the only one I can trust with this. The only one who has the will to go so much against what his emotions might tell him. Karl would have been capable of it before, but you've seen how he has changed. _Kroenen had sighed. _It will be tiresome if you do have to kill him. I don't want to wait another twenty years for another half-clone of mine to grow to his age, but I may have no other choice._

Franz wondered whether to be slightly appalled at Kroenen's callous lack of feeling towards Karl, who was practically his son, but after all this time knowing him it didn't really surprise him. Sometimes he thought it would be nice to find out what regular people thought like, but it was a stupid dream really. Like it or not he was one of Kroenen's household, and none of them would _ever_ be normal.

Two figures appeared at the entrance to the alley. Franz stiffened and dropped into a combat stance, but relaxed again when he saw that it was Karl and Laura. "What took you so long?" he demanded.

"Relax!" Karl replied, rolling his eyes. "I had to re-power Father's enchantments, and convincing that lot was… couldn't have been easy for Laura."

"Hmmm." Franz narrowed his eyes. He had noticed the correction Karl had made in what he had said, and it raised his suspicions. "So everything is going as planned?"

"Perfectly," Karl assured him. "We are ready for the trap."

"Good. Very good." Franz smiled. Doubts or no doubts, killing this white magician was going to be a lot of fun.

* * *

_Reviews anyone?_


	23. Discovery

Discovery

_Sorry its been so loooooooooooooooooooooooong everyone! I've been so busy! And its not even a particullarly long chapter dammit! Well, more soon i hope, despite the crappyness of chapter 23!_

* * *

Anne Frank began to surface from the world of dreams, her head filled with the fear that came from living in Bergen-Belsen. Slowly she realized that she was lying curled up under a warm blanket, alone, and clean for the first time in she didn't know how long. She opened her eyes and looked around. The room was dark, but she could tell that it was not the shed she had previously been shut up in. What had happened when she had been ill?

Anne sat up, her blanket sliding off her, and realized that she was wearing new clothes, which were too big for her. Her old rags were gone. Had all this been a dream? Was Bergen-Belsen just a nightmare?

A line of moonlight from the not-quite-shut door began to grow wider, as a dark shape came into the room. Anne's heart sank when she saw it, for it was no one she recognized, and upon his head was the unmistakable silhouette of a peaked cap.

"_Ich sehe, daB du wach bist, _I see you're awake. " he said in a harsh voice.

She didn't move, unsure of what was going on. Surely this was some cruel Nazi trick or a strange, illogical plan.

"_Mochtest du etwas zu essen?_ Do you want something to eat? " the figure asked.

She shook her head, too frightened to speak.

The dark figure stepped closer, and she shrank back, grabbing the blanket in an effort to put some sort of barrier between them. The man tilted his head to one side.

"_Es gibte keine Notwendigkeit, angst zu haben. Es wurde keine Punkt geben, wehn mann du verletze, nachdenn die Obacht, die ich dich Helfe gegeben habe. _There's no need to be afraid. There would be no point in hurting you after all the care I've put in to helping you recover. _"_

Anne lowered the blanket slightly.

"_Wie wieB ich, das ich dich vertrauen kanne?_ How do I know I can trust you? _" _She asked, "_Du bist ein Nazi, nicht._ You're a Nazi aren't you? _"_

He sighed. "_Ja, ich bin eine_. _Aber ich habe keine Wahl uber dich su helfen. Ich erwarte nicht dast du mich gern finden oder mich vertrauen. __Du bist sicherer hier als drausen._ Yes, I am. But I don't have any choice about helping you. I don't expect you to like me or even trust me. You'll be safer here than out there. "

He gestured to the door.

"_In Ordnung,_ All right, _" _Anne said. After all, she thought, nothing could be as bad as Bergen-Belsen.

* * *

Karl stalked the dark countryside outside Bergen-Belsen, thinking. He needed to get away from the concentration camp where his father waylaid him and questioned him about Anne.

The Army would be here very soon and they could not know who Anne really was. No-one could. He would have to get her to agree to use a new name, and find a way to put that new name in the _Kommandant's_ files.

Ahead of him Karl saw a dark shape standing by a tree. He doubted any normal human would have seen it, but it was obvious to him. He gave no sign of having spotted the other figure and kept walking, his hand slipping to the hilt of the baton sword at his side.

The shape stepped out of the shadows.

"_Ich dachte, das ich dich hier finden konnte_, I thought I might find you here. " It was Kroenen. "_Hast du mich vermieden?_ Have you been avoiding me? _"_

"_Nein. Nicht genau. Ich bin beschaftigt gewesen,_ No. Not exactly. I've been busy. _" _He changed the subject. "_Ich horte, daB du Experimenten heute machtest._ I heard that you were doing experiments today. _"_

"_Jawohl. Ich forschte die Moglichkeiten des Gliedwiedereinbaus. _Oh yes. I was investigating the possibilities of limb replacement. _"_

"_Ja?_ Yes? _" _He was fascinated despite himself, but he knew it to be the Other that made him feel this way. It had been stronger ever since coming here. It was the taint of death on the air, and its aura embedded into the very bricks of the camp.

"_Kein Gluck. Aber es unterheilt mich, um den Mann aufzu passen, langsan zu sterben._ No luck. But it amused me to watch as the man died slowly. _"_

"_Warum hast du heir herauskommen? Mochtest du jedoch wissen, was ich mache?_ Why have you come out here? Do you still want to know what it is I'm doing? _"_

"_Selbstverstandlich. Du kannst nicht fur miene Merkwurdigkeit schuld geben._ Of course. You can't blame me for being curious. _"_

Yes, Karl thought, curious. About how people work on the inside mostly.

"_Siehst du, ich kann nicht dich erklaren. Hat der Ogdru Jahad nicht dich erklaren uber das Verwirren mit dem Zeitstrom? Es ist gefahrlich zu kennen! _Look, I can't tell you! Didn't the Ogdru Jahad tell you about messing with the time stream! It's dangerous to know. _"_

"_Vielleicht kanst du mich nicht erklaren, aber ich noch herausfinden konnte. Bevor lang muB ich zu Rasputin und Ilsa zuruchkommen, und dann wurde ich wissen. Ich denke, daB du etwas von mir verstecken. _Maybe you can't tell me, but I can still find out. Before long I must return to Ilsa and Rasputin, and I will know by then. I think you are hiding something from me. _"_

"_Ich verstecke nichts! Ich wurde dich meine Mission erklaren, wenn ich konnte._ I am not hiding anything! If I could tell you my mission, I would. _"_

"_Wurdst du jetzt._ Would you now? _"_

With that, Kroenen turned on his heel and left, blending into the darkness within seconds.

* * *

This was the day, he knew that. The dark shade of the Ogdru Jahad in his dark soul whispered this to him. He had tracked his son to one of the abandoned huts. With the British this close some of the Jews here were being killed; there were plenty of empty rooms. His son had brought food to this hut, which was strange, since he would certainly have made the same modifications to his son as to himself, so he would no longer have to eat. The dark magic running through him should sustain him. Who else was hiding there?

Kroenen slipped up to one of the windows, barred and shuttered on the inside. Carefully and silently he bent aside the metal bars until they began to rip from their sockets, and slid a long knife through the gap between the shutters. He wiggled it a few times and was rewarded with a thunk as the bar holding them closed fell. A slight push and they swung open. Kroenen grasped the bars and slithered through them like a snake, half-somersaulting to land on the other side in a crouch.

He was in a dark room, but a thin line of light coming from under the door and his own magic enhanced night sight made it as clear as day too him. The space was empty, but he could hear voices from the next room. He went over to the door and listened.

"_Du kannst nicht Anne Frank mehr anguerufen sein_. _Es ist nicht sicher. _You can't be called Anne Frank anymore. It's not safe. "

"_Warum nicht_? Why not? "

"_Vertraust du mir auf diese Sache.. Was willst du angerufen_? Trust me on this one. What would you like to be called? "

"_Ich weiB nicht. Was fur Rachel_? I don't know. How about Rachel? "

"_Diese Name ist gut mitt dir.Was uber einen zweiten Namen_? It suits you. What about a second name? "

"_Warum nicht Rachel Frank_? Why can't I be called Rachel Frank? "

"_Weil Einer der oberen Nazibeamtun Frank angerufen ist. Die Briten denken konnten, daB du seinen Tochter bist_. One of the leading Nazis is called Frank. The British might think you were his daughter. "

Kroenen had heard enough. What exactly did his son think he was doing?

He burst through the door to be confronted by the sight of his son sitting by a Jew.

"_Was **gescheht**. _What is going **on** here? " he yelled.

* * *

_I'll update soon, I promise!_


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